Sour Wolf Love Story
by CILLI
Summary: Imagine you could see into season three, where the new 24 episodes will go. This story explores what might bring Sterek together, all the elements of drama and every day life in Beacon Hills, on top of the ever mounting drama with the alpha pack that connect the two. It's a very gradual exploration of what might happen in the popular MTV show.


It had been a horrible night from the very beginning, one he knew would plague him for years to come. To just stand there and watch his pack be torn apart, dragged off to god knows where, unsure if any of them were still alive. Derek felt helpless and betrayed, and was filled with an all consuming rage that could not be quelled.

Why, after all the alphas had done, after all they knew he had been through, why then had Scott held him back? He didn't get it, he just didn't understand, he never had. No matter how plain it seemed to Derek all his motivations and all his actions, Scott had never once just trusted him. Always questioning and doubting him, suspecting him.

Furious, Derek threw his fist wildly, knocking a number of things off the table; what did not concern him at this point, though he heard the sound of breaking glass. His temper was getting the better of him, like it always did, but this time was different. It wasn't just his pack, who he'd hoped in his heart could someday be something of a family, there was something else.

But there had always been something else, something brewing underneath it all, something he denied so effortlessly. Sitting himself down to breathe, though he heaved and balled his fists, Derek tried focusing his thoughts, attempting to calm himself.

"Derek!" The distant voice echoed in his head. "Derek! Let them go!"

"Scott, stop! He's not going to hurt them!"

Knuckles white and hands trembling, Derek thrust his hands into his hair, pulling himself down and clenched back a growl. How was this happening? Why now? Why always him?

No one got it, they simply did not understand him. All the years he'd lived, not a single soul had understood him like his sister had, and even then there were things she assumed wrong of him, took for granted, and could never comprehend. His broken heart for instance, she had no sympathy for it, and he wouldn't let her either. He'd shut down, guarded himself, protected himself by shielding her from seeing how wounded it had made him.

Betrayal meant so much more to him after that, after what Kate had done to his family. Every time hurt more than the last, and this time it showed. Scott hadn't noticed, he never did; stupid idiot. But Stiles, Stiles saw it right away, he knew it the second he looked at him, and it terrified Derek that he had.

That kid, that smart mouthed, scrawny kid understood more in one glance than anyone else. He knew more about being a wolf than anyone else seemed to, and he was still human. Then again, he'd always known, every time something happened, Stiles understood things no one else seemed capable of.

He braved the fear Derek struck in him, trusted him enough to make a deal, even though he thought he'd been a killer, that he'd murdered his own sister. He saved him from the Kenema, tread water for nearly two hours just to keep him alive, all the while still thinking as Scott did that he was trying t build some evil army of Betas. That kid knew more than he was aware of most times, and that scared the shit out of him.

Slowly Derek closed his eyes, letting his sigh throw him back, finally reaching a sort of calm, frail as it may be. His memories served to sate his anger, bring him some peace. There was no battle to be fought tonight, no way he could save his pack without a plan, and no way to plan with his head clouded.

He couldn't count on Scott, he knew that now more than ever. This was something he'd have to do on his own, which, as Alpha, was only right.

Trust had always been Derek's weakness, his inability to trust others, and the pain he suffered when trusting the wrong people. Time and time again, Scott let him down, and there was Kate, and his uncle Peter. But then there was Stiles, weak bodied yet strong minded Stiles. He could never openly trust that boy, no matter how complicated it made things not to. Stiles was too smart, he knew he'd realize in a second if his guard was down.

Agitated by the thought, Derek jerked in his seat and headed down to the cellar to try something else to focus his thoughts. Pulling himself up by the frame of the door, he cleared his head and began working out, focusing on his breathing and the darkness ahead of him rather than anything else.

A hard breath came as he pulled himself up, and with it came a flash of Stiles glaring at him. The image angered him, fueling him, making him work harder and faster. Again a hard breath followed by another image, Stiles muttering to Scott.

His muscles continued to flex and body ached the longer he went. The faster he went the quicker and more random the images became. First they were distant and moments that shot frustration, bitterness, and rage through him, but then they turned on him, becoming something entirely unwanted.

His lips, the way they were always parted, the image closed in and focused entirely on the boy's lips as they slowly formed a word. Derek felt his hand shake and suddenly came to, only to break his concentration all in such a split second. His hand slipped and body swayed, flinging him to the floor. With a groan he laid there, back throbbing and heart racing. His hands were shaking violently as he lifted them and brought them up to see. Why were they shaking?

Derek sat up slowly, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in his pants, and quickly set his hand in place to fix it. What he found did all but surprise him, and annoyed he growled, taking his hand away quickly to help brace on the floor as he stood instead. This wasn't getting out of control, he'd already lost it; it would be only a matter of time now before it was too late.

Leaning over and braced against a table as he collected himself once more, Derek breathed slowly, trying to rid himself of his erection. Forcing his eyes to remain focused and mind away from any unwanted thought, he managed to tame himself and felt the blood leaving his extremity.

It happened just in time, as he heard footsteps from above. An uninvited visitor had welcomed themselves into his home. Alert, Derek listened as the footsteps wandered around slowly, almost apprehensively. It wasn't an Argent, he would have heard the distinctive roll of heel to toe as they crept along. Had it been a police officer, the footsteps would have been heavier, more clumsy.

Annoyed, as he realized who it was, Derek bowed his head with a sigh, awaiting his visitor to find him. It didn't take long, as the last footstep reached the bottom of the stairs, followed by silence.

"What do you want, Stiles?" Derek growled at the boy behind him. He didn't have to even turn around to look, he knew it was him. Ironic yet fitting, just what he didn't need or want right now.

"I wanted to-"

"You wanted to what?" Derek spat quickly and turned with an accusing glare at the boy. "Help? Like you did tonight with Scott? Yeah, I don't need your help anymore, Stiles. You've both done quite enough!"

"That wasn't-"

His hands still shook as he stormed past the boy, taking the stairs two at a time. He rushed past him without looking at his face, controlling his desire to see his lips, or let Stiles get sight of his eyes.

"That wasn't what I was going to say! Damn it!" Stiles had run up after Derek, stopping him in his tacks.

Surprised, the werewolf turned, allowing his eyebrow to perk and expression fall into that condescending mask it often took.

As always, Stiles reacted like a frightened bunny caught in the jaws of a wolf. He trembled and stammered on his unspoken words before finding himself. "Don't give me that look," he insisted and found his ground on which to stand, "You know I tried doing everything I could. I just don't think Scott got it, tonight. You know how this all looked, and I know he assumed a lot-"

"He always assumes, Stiles, and you do too!" Derek shot back an unforgiving glare, his brows furrowed and teeth clenched. He made little effort to be menacing and did so naturally, annoyed and frustrated beyond comprehension. Yet again, Scott had betrayed him, just like he had with Argent, and like he would do over and over again.

"That's just... that's not true. I mean, granted, it's not the easiest thing to trust you sometimes, but I mean... Look, I get what you were trying to do tonight, and I wish... I wish there was something more that I could do! But I'm not like you and Scott, I can't..." Bearing his teeth, his mouth open like he hand fangs, and contorting his hands like claws, Stiles did his best to horribly imitate a werewolf, as insulting as it was.

Derek did nothing more than look the boy over as if he were insane, the same look he gave him countless times before. He was brave and stupid, that's all, that's what he kept telling himself. There was nothing there, nothing Stiles could read, nothing he knew other than what had happened tonight.

Stiles dropped his arms with a defeated sigh, rolling his eyes at the stubborn and humorless werewolf. "Could you just- I'm trying to apologize!"

"What for?"

"Well... because I'm sorry. And I know it's probably a little late, but I'd like to help."

The two stood there in silence for a moment before Derek felt his resistance break, and turned, dropping his guard finally, and wandered into what remained of his family's living room.

"I've been thinking up this plan, maybe, that might get everyone out safely..." Stiles followed Derek as if cued to start spouting ideas like an open panel, as if the werewolf had offered him the floor. He watched as Derek sank down into the disheveled sofa, standing over him as he held his head like some massive migraine were overwhelming him.

Listening to his rambling for what felt like ten minutes, Derek felt himself break. His head spun and hands were still trembling, and Stiles going on and on about strategy and flanking, it was driving him nuts. Very suddenly, Derek shot out his hand, gripping Stiles' wrist to stop him from talking and further.

The moment Derek's hand reached out, Stiles shut up. He looked down, taken aback, startled by the action, and effectively silenced. It took him a second to realize Derek's hand shaking as it held onto him, leaving an overwhelming concern growing within him. As he moved to kneel or stand before the werewolf (he hadn't decided and wasn't sure what he was actually about to do), Derek removed his hand as quickly as he'd placed it.

Silence continued to surround the two, a silence held longer than ever had stood between them, not including times they'd hid from whatever monster or enemy. Derek's hand hung, draped over his knee, shaking more than Stiles had felt. He flexed it, trying to rid himself of the tremor, but it was no use. Seeing that the opportunity seemed to linger, Stiles stepped in front of Derek and took a knee, though his heart pounded through his chest.

"Look, we'll get them back..." he insisted, trying his best to sound optimistic.

Derek sat silent, his hand balled into a fist to hide it from shaking.

"Derek, seriously," Stiles begged, "calm down!" His hands shot up quickly, taking hold of Derek's fist, only to produce a reaction he expected would see him hurt or flung across the room.

Instead, Derek merely jerked upright, staring into Stiles' eyes like a dear in headlights. His face was peaked and white as a ghost, like someone had just walked over his grave.

Stiles was flabbergasted, unsure what to do or say, or why his friend was acting this way. Because despite their differences and the bad blood between them, Derek had unwittingly become Stiles' friend; an unlikely result for either party. It was true though, like it or not, they were friends, and Stiles was loyal to a fault, always eager and willing to help.

This was a little different though, something was wrong. That look in Derek's eyes wasn't for his pack, it wasn't like it'd lost his family all over again, like it should have been. It was like Stiles had caught him with something, done something he wasn't supposed to, and not in that "throat ripping" sort of way. That look...

Stiles quickly let go of Derek's hand and stood up, running his hand over his hair nervously, an awkward gawk to his expression. "I..." He what? What happened? What did he see? Nothing really, just an expression he'd only ever had himself. It was that knee jerk reaction he'd first had when Lydia fell wasted, head first into his lap, the moment before the triumphant teenage grin took over. That was what he saw.

What the fuck did that mean? That couldn't be it. His thoughts plastered over his ever expressive and animated face, Stiles stood there looking into space, while Derek looked up at him in awe. He looked like he was going to sneeze.

"You look retarded," he huffed and stood quickly to escape the situation. Moving quickly between Stiles and the couch, Derek made for his freedom, and hopefully the door to usher his guest out.

No such luck, as he managed to get to the arm of the sofa before feeling a hand at the crook of his elbow, stopping him short. Derek paused, glanced down, then looked up at Stiles with his ever menacing glare.

"Oh stop it!"

Derek's eyes went wide and brows perked higher than they had likely ever. Had Stiles really just question him?

"Seriously. What's wrong, Derek?"

There was no time and no desire for questioning, he hadn't the patience for it. Derek leaned in slowly, his fangs bared, and growled lowly from the pit of his stomach. "Let. Go."

There was a split second where the whole world seemed to slow down for a second, as Stiles' hyperactive mind raced, processing everything. Derek's hand shaking, his expression, his behavior since forever, every instance he could remember when the two of them were this close. Oh my god! And there the realization struck him, like a bolt of fucking lightning. Had it not been for the fundamental hatred and constant fear of physical aggression, maybe he would have seen it sooner.

The question now was how to handle the situation, what to do now that he realized what was going on. This underlying issue had existed for god knows how long, brewing in an already ticking time-bomb. Just a fraction of a second, that was all the thought lasted, all the time it took for Stiles to make up his mind and finally act upon it.

Their heads less than an inch from one another's, Stiles closed the gap quickly, with the slightest crane of his neck, and kissed Derek. Afraid to pull away on his own, he left his lips in place, not moving a muscle, waiting solely on Derek's reaction.

Derek stood with his eyes wide with terror, hands out and frozen in mid air, but no longer shaking. It took him a moment longer than it had Stiles, to realize what was happening, that Stiles had kissed him, not the other way around. For a moment he'd thought he'd lost control, that he'd blacked out just long enough to do something so completely stupid. But he was in the clear, at least on part of his actions. But what to do now?

Part of him said to push Stiles away, to wipe away the kiss and look at the boy as if he were insane. He saw it happen in his head, felt his heart break a little at the thought of looking at Stiles' face again, and knew he couldn't do it. What then? Instinct, primal and pure, Derek allowed it to take over, trusting it as he had all these years, the wolf inside doing what was best.

Feeling Stiles and how still he was, his lips not moving, not pulling away, Derek acted quickly to ensure it remained that way. An arm wrapped around the slender boy, while his other hand snapped to the back of the boy's head, holding it in place. Cocking his own head, Derek let his lips maneuver about Stiles', passionately kissing him, making it real and not just the crashing of mouths against each other.

Still a bit stunned, reacting slowly, Stiles realized Derek hadn't hit him, he wasn't going to hurt him, he was kissing him back, actually kissing him! The realization was hazy at best, his reaction that of pure intuition; he began kissing Derek back.

The moment Derek felt Stiles' lips move, his body took over entirely. His lips nearly devouring the boy, he breathed hard against their kiss, and held him against him tighter. Stiles' hands swiftly braced against Derek's shoulders, a push he didn't intend to give, but the second he felt Derek move to back away, his hands rushed to pull him back in, eagerly slapping against his bare skin.

Derek gave a deep growl and continued furiously kissing Stiles, his tongue aching to part the boy's lips. They kissed a moment longer until Stiles felt the soft organ venture into his mouth, quickly snapping him into reality, like an on switch in his brain.

Frantically he pushed the werewolf from him, staggering back against the wall, chest heaving. His expression was that of sheer shock, dumfounded as to what had just happened.

The abrupt rejection filled Derek with an overwhelming wave of anger, which crashed inside him with gale force.

"Derek, what-"

The werewolf turned too quickly and had already stormed out of the room, taking off into the forest, out into the night. Stiles ran after him, only to stand alone in the doorway, looking out into emptiness.

"Yeah! Let's not talk about this or anything!" he called out to the trees. "DEREK!"

Stiles' voice echoed through the forest, as Derek sat perched on the cliff, looking down the rock face into the darkness below. He didn't want to talk about anything, he wasn't a talker. What happened was obvious, he knew Stiles understood, but now wasn't the time to go back. Whatever happened from here would happen, the flood gates had opened, no stopping the water from flooding now. Not tonight though, not for a while.

His hands had stopped shaking, his mind was clear, and he knew in his heart how to rescue his pack. If one good thing came of what just happened, it was that. Maybe he'd thank Stiles someday, maybe he wouldn't get a chance, either way, what he was about to do would probably get him killed, but at least he had the peace their kiss gave him to see him through.

Isaac sat looking over at Scott, trying to gauge what he was thinking; it wasn't working. His new Alpha was locked like a statue, his eyes wide, mouth agape, and body frozen in place. Not that he blamed him, but unlike Scott, Isaac was fairly unaffected by what they'd just been told. Granted, he had merely overheard it, but he'd rejoined the conversation the second Stiles started shouting.

Now the three of them stood there; Isaac looking from Scott -who remained still- to Stiles, who stood holding his mouth in curious apprehension. They had been like this nearly five minutes now, and with no one speaking, the tension was becoming unbearable.

Opening his mouth to speak, Isaac was interrupted by Stiles' outburst. "Would you say something already!"

Finally moving, Scott turned his head slowly, as if shaking it, as a word choked and gargled within his throat.

Frustrated, Stiles threw up his hands with a grunt and began walking out of the room.

"Hay! Wait!" Isaac clambered from the edge of the desk and went after his Alpha's friend. Barely to the stairs he caught him, placing his hand on Stiles' arm.

Giving no resistance, Stiles turned, groaning as he rolled his eyes at the young wolf. "What?" he blurted and shrugged impatiently.

"He's just in shock," the werewolf lacked confidence in his words but knew them to be true, "Just give him a minute. It's kinda... a lot to take in."

"What's there to 'take in'?" Stiles demanded.

"Well..."

Aggravated that the boy was right, Stiles huffed and walked with him back to Scott's room. Impatient to know what his best friend thought, he was close to beating the words out of him, or just calling it a night and going home to think things over on his own. What good was a best friend if they didn't say anything back?

Scott still hadn't moved since last he had, though he seemed to turn his head back to its former position as Stiles took his spot once more before him. They sat in silence yet again, only this time for a few seconds, before it was abruptly shattered.

Uproariously, Scott sat on the edge of his bed, laughing. His eyes watered and sides began to ache, and the lines in his face grew deeper than they had been in ages. At least he was smiling, he hadn't done that in a very long time. But there he was, grinning, snickering, and having a laugh at Stiles' expense.

"That's great!" Stiles huffed, "He thinks it's hilarious! Well I'm glad you think this is all a joke. I'm dying over here and all you can do is laugh after fifty minutes of nothing?"

"It was five," Isaac chimed dryly.

Stiles shot the kid an all but intimidating glare, "What?"

"I said-"

With the slightest shift in his expression, Stiles let his face fall and looked like he might kill the baby wolf.

"Sorry."

As Scott's laughter finally died down, he looked over to his friend with an apologetic smile. "Come on, Stiles, you gotta admit it's kinda funny!"

"No. Nope. Not funny. Not funny, Scott. SO not funny, that I'm about to kill you and your little pup over here if you don't say something more constructive other than 'it's kinda funny'."

Scott gave a playful scowl and shook his head at Stiles, unsure where to start, and disappointed he was taking this all so seriously. It was kind of serious though, even if the full realm of the situation had yet to hit him. Maybe it was best they talk about it, that way he could ease into it a bit better, get to where Stiles wanted him to be.

"Alright," he sighed, finally getting the last of his chuckles out, "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me what the hell just happened!" Stiles boomed, perplexed by how thick his friend was at the moment.

"Okay. So you... kissed Derek. Was it a good kiss?"

"It was alright..." Stiles shrugged, nearly forgetting himself. "Wait! What? No! That- I can't believe you right now! I- The point is, he kissed me back. Like he kissed me back! What the hell does that mean?"

"Well when you say he kissed you back, do you mean like leaned in, or do you mean-"

"I mean he slipped me tongue, Scott."

"Ew." Isaac sat off to the side, minding his business as best he could, and refrained from making any comments. But he couldn't help mutter under his breath at the thought of his former Alpha kissing anyone, let alone Stiles.

"Isaac..." Scott urged with a kind nod to his Beta.

"Scott!"

"Stiles! Really, man, I think it's kinda cool."

"Cool?"

"Hear me out. Derek has been shut up in that house with no one for the longest time. He obviously needs to get out, but doesn't, and so the tension got too much for him and..."

Stiles stood with his arms crossed, nodding his head though he least of all agreed with a word his friend was saying. "I'm going to kill you," he stated most sternly, "It's gonna be messy."

Unable to keep from chuckling, Scott stood from his bed and walked over to his friend, batting him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Look. If it's bothering you that much, just talk to him about it."

"Oh uh, Derek really doesn't talk about stuff."

Both Scott and Stiles looked over to Isaac, who merely shrugged defensively, then back to each other.

"Scott, I really don't think it was just pent up frustration." Unsure yet if that truth bothered him or not, Stiles laid all his eggs out, even if he hadn't all the ones he needed in his basket.

"Really? Wow! Uh... Do you... think maybe you should talk to Danny?"

"Why would I talk to Danny, Scott? Is He my best friend? No! Does he know what Derek is? No! He thinks Derek is my cousin, Miguel, for god's sake!"

"Ooooh! Yeah that uh... Alright. Let me- let me just sit down."

"Oh my god."

Scott took a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to play over what Stiles had so roughly described, while not wanting to play it over at all for sake of the image of Derek kissing anyone. The moment passed, he ignored his own issues he was having, and really focused on the problem at hand. His friend was distressed and needed his help, he could do this.

"Let me ask you this. Did you like it?"

The question caused a rather interesting reaction on Stiles' part, which Scott noticed. He noticed his friends increasing discomfort, and looked to his Beta, nodding toward the door.

Reluctantly, with a sigh, Isaac got up and left, planting himself in the kitchen away from them, but not entirely out of earshot of what was being said. He didn't try to listen in, but his ears picked up a few things, muffled words, barely anything substantial.

"You gonna answer the question?" Scott teased as Stiles stood there, frozen, listening for the front door which never came. "He's downstairs, he can't hear us."

Not trusting it enough to take the chance, Stiles walked over to the door and shut it. He held himself there for a moment, collecting his thoughts as they raced through his mind, knowing the answer but unsure how to give it in a simple 'yes' or 'no'. He turned and leaned his back against the door, shaking his head as he looked at Scott plainly and said, "I don't know."

He couldn't help the smirk that curled at the corner of his lips, but Scott did his best to tame it. "Wha'd ya mean, you don't know? I mean, either you liked it or not."

"It felt good! Okay? It felt- good. God! Yeah, okay, I liked the way it felt. He had his arm around me and did this thing with his hand." Jerking his body around awkwardly as he described the way Derek had held him, Stiles looked anywhere but at Scott. He couldn't face him while describing it, not even thinking of the details. It was like the eye contact would make a sort of mind meld and somehow he'd pop a random boner or something. Ridiculous, he was aware, but it freaked him out so he avoided it.

"So you liked it."

"No..." Stiles shook his head slowly, "I didn't say that. I said I liked how it felt, that's it."

"So what didn't you like?"

Stiles shot Scott a boggled expression, as if he knew, which Scott shot back at him, then realized he obviously didn't know. "Because... For as long as I remember, I've been in love with Lydia. Hell! When Erica went all wolf bombshell on us, I even got a little turned on... Before she tried to put me through a door that is. But really, when have I ever screamed 'gay' to you?"

There was a simple answer to Stiles' problem, or at least his question, and he'd pretty much said it. "You're not gay," Scott replied simply. "You like girls, you've always liked girls."

"Exactly! Thank you!"

"But you like Derek too."

"Not amused."

"Not done. Think about it. You've always kinda understood him, like giving him chances I would never give him. You rescued him from the Kenema, nearly drowned doing it. And you were even prepared to cut off his arm had I not gotten to you in time."

"In my defense, he threatened to rip out my throat with his teeth."

"Still! You thought he died and you were upset. He was the bad guy -or at least I thought he was- but you still worried about him. You gave a damn even back then, before we knew anything about him."

"We still don't know anything about him."

"Yeah we do."

"Whatever, Scott. This isn't going where I thought it would. I shouldn't have asked you."

"But you did. And I think even if you might not wanna hear it, you know you need to. I mean, otherwise, why would you have asked in the first place?"

"Because I don't know what it means!"

"Well we're trying to figure that out."

Stiles kept his arms folded and looked away a moment in frustration. Something was obviously bothering him, the problem was figuring out what. There was nothing wrong with being gay, or even half gay, as Scott had pointed out. He'd always joked about making out with Scott, asked Danny if he thought he was attractive a time or two, but never really meant it that way. In fact, he'd always been comfortable about it not being a thing or being construed. Why was that?

"Alright, so hypothetically speaking. Suppose I were bisexual. Why haven't I ever noticed? I mean, have you?"

"I never thought about it, no. But maybe it's not that. Maybe it's just Derek." There wasn't any simple answer Scott could give Stiles, just questions he could pose to him to help him figure the problem out for himself. "I don't know. What do you like about Lydia? What kinda attracted you to Erica?"

All Stiles could do was shake his head a moment as he thought. It used to be so easy to list off the reasons he loved Lydia, he could go on for days about her. But it had broken his heart to see her and Jackson the way they were now, it left him with an ever growing hopelessness. And he'd always been so wholeheartedly optimistic about them too.

"She's smart, really smart, smarter than she acts. She's strong, so's Erica. God, when she had me up against that door... She just took charge like a... leather clad Catwoman."

"And Derek? He's smart, he knows more than he tells us all the time! And like you said, he kinda... took charge after you..."

"After I kissed him. So then why didn't he kiss me before? If he was so into it, why did I-"

"Don't know. You'd have to ask him."

The pair sat there looking at one another, the conversation pretty much over. Next step would be getting a chance to talk to Derek, who had disappeared, probably gone after his pack alone. They were both concerned, but that didn't make it any easier on Stiles knowing he might not get a chance to ask Derek about what happened.

Leaving Scott's bedroom, he and Stiles joined Isaac in the kitchen. They shared a few empty words, Isaac tried to apologize for butting in earlier, and Stiles let him know it was alright, before ducking out to go home.

What he needed now was to sleep on this, really get a good night's rest -if he could- and think about this all over again in the morning. They still had a test tomorrow, and practice later on, so hopefully he could get all his worrying out of the way before then. Not a chance, but here's to hoping. What it came down to was Derek, and he was nowhere to be found.

One foot after another, that's all he needed to do, put one foot after another, keep walking. Don't give up, don't give in, keep going, just keep going. The pain was crippling, his wounds deep and blood spilled along the dead leaves, but he kept walking, kept pushing himself forward.

The forest seemed to go on forever, stretching further than it had before. He could barely tell which way he was going, which direction he was headed, but he knew the alphas were behind him, far enough behind, he hoped. Their howls sounded in the distance, spread far apart as they chased after his Betas. Hopefully they were all safe, he was sure they had a better chance than he did to make it out alive.

His hand gripped to his side, holding close a wound too deep to heal. His organs writhed around inside him, verging on spilling out onto the ground, but he held his hand in place, keeping them in. All he had to do was make it out of the forest, just get somewhere there were people, anyone that could help him.

Stumbling to his knee, he clung to a nearby sapling, using all his strength to try and stand. The voices in the distance grew closer, calling out his name. Hallucinations? Or was someone there to save him?

Falling to his side, Derek rolled onto his back, coughing up blood. His hand still held its place, doing little to keep the blood from flowing, and felt the light of the moon dim around him. He couldn't die like this, giving up, not fighting for his life. Struggling all he could to get turned around, hopefully get to his feet, all he could manage was to reach and falter, falling back with a grunt. He couldn't die this way.

"Over here!" came a voice from behind him. A number of footsteps followed, scrambling over to where he lay.

Hands cupped his arms, lifting him off the ground and to his feet. His arm was thrown over a pair of shoulders, while someone walked beside him, gripping his wound tightly. It hurt enough to make him growl, buckling under the sheer agony of it.

A voice shouted, "He's not gonna make it!"

While another cried, "Don't let go of him! We're almost there!"

His eyes wavered but caught sight of Scott leading the way, rushing ahead toward a car, a jeep. His head rolled to the side and saw Isaac's feet shuffling along, laboring under the weight of his former Alpha.

They piled him into the jeep and made sure he was stable before taking off, the tires sliding in the loose soil and dry leaves. The lights blurred, every sound seemed miles away, but he could sense them all around him, frantically trying to save him. Holding on as best he could, Derek stayed, he fought, and clung to that voice in the dark calling his name, so soft and scared.

"We have to go after him!" Stiles sat there in his jeep, hands clutching the wheel, looking out on the empty, endless night, as if he could see Derek miles away, as if he knew right where to find him.

Scott sat beside him, waiting for Isaac to hurry up and join them. He knew there wasn't much time, but they couldn't just leave without as much help as they could get. "I know, Stiles, just give him a second! We'll find him, he's out there somewhere-"

"Yeah but there's miles of forest, and the longer we just sit here, the longer it's gonna-" Beating the wheel like it was someone's head, Stiles shook the jeep with the force of his outburst. Short lived, he gathered himself and sat clutching his mouth in his hand, too upset to know what else to do. It wasn't going to help anything talking about helping Derek, what they needed to be doing was actually be out there, helping him, not sitting here in the jeep.

"Here he comes!" Quickly moving to the back seat, Scott made room for Isaac to climb in.

"Let's go!" Isaac huffed as he slammed the door shut behind him.

The second Isaac was in, Stiles turned on the jeep and peeled off down the street. He drove with such determination, he managed to ignore two stop signs and nearly rolled them when they reached a curve. They couldn't get there fast enough, and each second that went by, the harder it was going to be to even find Derek, let alone in time.

"What did Erica's text say? Read it back!" Stiles barked, glancing over to Isaac quickly, before redirecting his eyes onto the road.

Scrolling through his phone, the young wolf searched for what they were all assuming was a message from their friend, not just some trap set by the Alphas. "Here! It says 'Derek hurt. Find him. Send help. Meet in the morning' but it doesn't say where."

"Do you know where they were going?" Scott leaned himself over the seats and looked over to Stiles, who's eyes would not waver from the street before him.

"No. But I have a feeling the Alphas were camping out by the caves. So you take into account where that is relative to everything else... You have yourself about a four mile radius."

"That's a lot of ground to cover."

"Yeah, I know. But then you think, 'Alright, which way would I be headed?'. If you were running away from a pack of angry alphas, which way would you go?"

Scott sat in thought a moment, looking over to Isaac, both thinking the same thing. "Home."

"Exactly, and the rest of them, I'm guessing, ran the other way, diverting the attention away from Derek, since, like the message said, he's hurt and they can't help him."

Impressed and frightened by his friend's blind determination, Scott looked at Stiles and hoped he was right. He'd rarely been wrong about things, especially something like this, and if his gut was telling him this wasn't a trap, then he trusted it, he had to. He'd been wrong about enough things and it was time he made up for it.

Whatever was happening between Stiles and Derek didn't matter, so long as Stiles was alright, and he wasn't going to be if Derek was hurt. No matter what ever happened, Stiles had always helped Derek, and Derek had saved Stiles on an occasion or two, so they owed him this much. When it came down to who was good and who was the bad guy, none of them had ever wanted to sacrifice anyone; if they could save him they would, especially now.

"He's losing a lot of blood!" Isaac backed out of the jeep as quickly as he could, tossing himself out before it had even gone into park. He stood with his hands held to the back of his head, terror gripping his face. Remembering the report they'd gotten when his brother died in combat, all he could think was this was how his brother had looked, cut open and bleeding.

"We don't have time for this!" Scott shouted from the back of the jeep, "Come help me with him!"

Stiles pushed from behind Derek, while Scott and Isaac took him, cradling him in their arms. Jumping out after Derek was out, Stiles quickly replaced his hands on his side, holding closed the gaping wound.

"Oh my god! There's so much blood!"

"Just stay calm, Stiles, we're almost there!"

They clambered into the clinic, taking Derek right to the back, and laid him on the table. Isaac kept his hand on Derek's shoulder as Scott rushed around the room looking for stitches, and tried taking away some of his pain.

"What are you doing?" Stiles stood there, hands shaking as he pressed them to Derek's gushing side, watching Isaac in frantic confusion.

"Making it a little better."

Keeping his composure, despite the tears of concern and fury brimming in his eyes, Stiles calmly looked from Isaac to Derek, who lay unconscious. "Just help him."

Scott returned with the kit, hesitating a moment before opening the case.

"What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know! But I'm gonna try doing something."

Fearing the worst, Stiles reluctantly removed his hands from Derek's wound, stepping away to give room to Scott. Moving around Isaac to stand by Derek's head, he took a step back and leaned against the desk, watching everything unfold.

"Fight, Derek," he breathed, "please fight."

Light spilled through the window as Derek woke from a dream. It was feverish and hectic; his pack had been killed by the Alphas and he'd been hunted down in the woods. Scott and them had found him, but they'd walked right into a trap, and he watched as each one of them were mauled to death. Last of them to fall was Stiles, his face pressed down into the dirt, his dead eyes locked onto his own.

The image shook him from his sleep, tearing him back into the world, dazed and confused. Slowly he sat him self up, draping his legs off the edge of the table, and sat there hanging his head a moment, reminding himself of where he was. They'd gotten him to the vet, which meant they found him, Erica or Boyd had reached them.

That didn't mean his pack was alright, that they were safe, but it was enough for now. Peter, he knew would be fine, he'd been the one to get him out and distract the others while Derek ran for safety. Everything had just gone so wrong, but that was what he got for rushing in without a solid plan, for doing things on his own, rather than trusting anyone else to help him.

Gradually making his way onto his feet, Derek braced himself against the table as he stood himself up. Hand gripping his side, he fought through the pain, straightening himself as best he could.

"You're up."

His eyes darted toward the voice beside him, finding Stiles standing in the doorway, cup in hand.

"I was gonna bring you some water for when you- Here."

Stiles awkwardly held out the cup a moment before realizing Derek's hands were occupied, and quickly stepped over to the table. He set the cup down and moved over to help the wolf stand. A slight stumble and a reluctant lean into the boy, and Derek was to his feet, only to sit down in the chair beside the desk.

Frustrated he growled, fighting against the agony in his side. Reaching around to remove the bandage, Stiles moved quickly to hold out his hands and stop him, weary he would remove it too soon, or that he'd have to see the wound again.

"Leave it!" he insisted, backing away the moment Derek looked up at him. "It was pretty bad, you might wanna- Alright."

Derek pealed away the bandage, ignoring Stiles' urge. The stitches were as neatly in place as they could be, the wound still there, still bleeding. The skin around it was growing black, the blood thick and infected. With a sigh he let his head fall back, looking away from the wound. It made it hurt more to see it in the state it was in, and the pain made him want to punch someone.

"That looks- Should I get someone?"

"No!" Derek barked. The look on Stiles' face left his own expression to soften some, letting his eyes fall to the wall beside him.

"Don't..." Moving quickly, Stiles got the gauze and brought it over, removing the soiled bandage from Derek's side. "It's infected, you're gonna need a clean dressing."

Derek watched as the boy's hands set gently to work, patching up his wound. He saw the concern that was always there, despite how cruel and guarded he'd always been to him.

It scared Stiles to see Derek's wound like this, too like the bullet that had nearly killed him, what felt like forever ago. He leaned back against the table and focused on the fresh bandage he'd set, shaking his head. "It isn't healing."

"The knife was laced with wolfsbane, it's not gonna heal, only get worse."

The callas way Derek simply stated it upset Stiles, who looked at the wolf hurt and insulted. "Well we could have just left you there in the woods to die!" he shot at him, not meaning a word of it.

Derek knew Stiles hadn't meant anything by it, but knew the reality wouldn't make him worry any less. It was what Stiles did best, he cared about those around him, he fought for them, even though they were all faster and stronger than he was, could heal like it was nothing, and had weapons that far surpassed his of wit and sarcasm. He was the most loyal and trusting person he'd ever known, and all he could ever do was be mean and insult him for being kind.

"Thank you," he said most sincerely.

A bit floored by Derek's words, Stiles hesitated a moment before fumbling out, "You're welcome."

The two sat in silence for a while; Derek fussing with the tape holding his bandage to his skin, Stiles looking everywhere but at the werewolf. Feeling the awkward tension coming from the boy, Derek glanced up at him, regretfully knowing what was likely on his mind.

He didn't want to talk about anything, not right now. There were things you didn't talk about, most of them Derek included in this, and wasn't one to share what he was thinking or feeling. He felt anger, it fueled him, but he lied when he said it was his anchor.

Family, a pack, the closeness he once felt, that fueled him. The anger of losing that had taken over for a time, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't anger he felt when he thought about Stiles, but it was what came when he knew his feelings weren't right. There was no room in this world for a werewolf and human, Scott and Alison were proof enough of that. Stiles had his whole life to live yet, he had girls to date and dances to go to, matches to play, and a family to have. He couldn't do any of that with Derek, he'd be giving up too much, it wouldn't be fair.

But it wasn't fair not talking about it, when it was obviously on Stiles' mind. It was there in the way he would steal a glance and realize the wolf was looking at him, then quickly look away at nothing, as if he hadn't caught it.

"Stiles. What?"

"What, what? Nothing! No- nothing."

Sighing deeply, Derek groaned to think he'd have to push, especially when he really didn't want to. It would be so much easier to just let it be and take the easy road handed to him, but no, he knew well enough he couldn't do that.

"Stiles."

The boy looked over to the wolf and stole a deep breath, nervous and unsure of what to say. He'd had the conversation nearly eighty million times since the other night, so what had changed? It wasn't like he had nothing to say, he just couldn't think of any of it now that he had the chance.

"I know something's bothering you... Out with it."

Mouth agape, Stiles acted surprised a moment, only to huff and sigh, aware he was a horrible actor. "Fine! I've been... thinking about the other night. A lot..." Shaking his head slightly, his eyes off somewhere else, he played over the kiss once more in his head, still dumbfounded that it had happened at all. "I don't know why-"

"It's alright. Nothing to worry about. Just forget it even happened."

That was what he wanted, to tell Derek that it had been 'all some big misunderstanding', write it off, and ask him to not talk about it again. No problem there. If that was what he wanted, so be it.

Assuming made an ass of him, but it was what Derek did best. Stiles stood there feeling disappointed, aware that, that was exactly what he was feeling, and realized he'd wanted Derek to say something completely different, rather than dismiss it. He had liked it, he knew how it had stopped the wolf's hands from shaking, and knew it was more than just something that happened.

As he went to speak, ready to throw out a mouth full of insistent declarations, Derek interrupted and asked about Scott.

"Oh uh... He and Isaac went to meet up with Erica. Yeah, she sent this text to meet in the morning. They figured since it had said you were hurt and that wasn't a trap, that meeting up with her should be safe enough."

Derek nodded, looking toward the door as someone walked in. The footsteps he heard were followed by Isaac, as he entered and smiled subserviently at his former Alpha. The two exchanged nods before Scott entered the room, grinning at the sight of Derek up and about.

"You're up!" he chimed, looking at Derek sat in the chair, "You okay?"

"Nope. Not really."

"His wound's infected," Stiles added, feeling the frustration and rejection collect in his throat as he tossed his two cents in.

"Well are the stitches holding up?"

"Yeah they're just fine, Scott!" Fighting his own private battle inside, Stiles looked at each of them, aware his outburst was rather unwarranted, but made no course to apologize for it. "They're keeping the infection in just fine! Why don't you all talk about how you're gonna save the world this time. I'm- I'm done with this right now."

The three of them watched as Stiles stormed from the room. He marched into his jeep and sat there behind the wheel a minute, playing over what Derek had said, the way he just brushed it all off like it was nothing. Fine, if he was going to act like it didn't happen, then that was just fine.

Derek sat with his head bowed, listening to the door of the jeep slam shut, waiting for the engine to start. For a moment he almost hoped he'd hear Stiles come back into the clinic, but heard the turbines roar instead. He'd taken the easy road after all, and now he'd done exactly what he hadn't wanted to in the first place.

Scott and Isaac both stood there, awkwardly avoiding acknowledging what had happened, which only made it more obvious. Frustrated, Derek sighed, almost growling, and shot the other Alpha a glare.

"So we find this knife and what strain of wolfsbane they used, then we get this thing healed up." It was easier barking orders than talking about feelings, and none of them were in the position to talk about anything other than business. "I don't have a lot of time here. Either we find this soon or I'm just gonna get worse."

Drops fell in beads to the floor, thick and black, dripping from the bed. The sheets were soaked and stained with blood, saturated with the tar running from the infected wound. All hope was lost at this point, run out like the sand in an hour glass. At this point, all they could do was wait.

Stiles sat alone in the room, watching Derek slowly die. No greater loss had ever gripped his heart this tightly than when he'd lost his mother. He wasn't ready to lose someone else, not again, not like this.

What good was the supernatural if it couldn't help save him? Why would his own kind do this? All these questions and countless more plagued him, running rampant through his mind as he sat there, watching him waste away.

"Hey." Peter stood at the door, tentatively looking over at the boy, aware of the blood between them. "Maybe you should rest. You've been sitting there all night."

Glancing back at the man from over his shoulder, Stiles silently turned his attention back to Derek. It wouldn't be long now and he wasn't about to leave Derek to die alone. His answer was plain enough, he was staying, tired or not. Derek had fought this long, what was a few more minutes?

Leaving them once more, Peter stepped away and went out into the den, joining the two Betas by the fireplace. They were all concerned, scared to lose their Alpha, for their pack to be torn apart. Doing his best to console them, Peter sat with Boyd and Erica, ready to answer any questions they might have. No one spoke a word.

Isaac came in from outside, wiping the back of his dirt covered hands across his face, scratching an itch he couldn't reach. The hole was dug, the grave set, ready for when Derek passed. It was the least he could do after leaving to join Scott's pack. Derek had seen more in Isaac than anyone had in a very long time, since his brother had been alive, and Isaac knew there was some good to the wolf.

In time with every drop of blood that fell, a tear left Stiles' eye. They slipped onto his hand and ran down his arm, leaving him sniffling behind his palm. His hand cupped over his mouth, he cried, watching another loved one die, and being as helpless as before, unable to do anything to save him.

Why did this always seem to happen to him? It left him feeling cursed, like nothing he did was any good. He couldn't change anything, no matter how much he did to try. He'd done everything to find him, to get there in time, but it still didn't matter, it just prolonged Derek's agony.

Leaning forward in his chair, hands draped and head bowed, Stiles gave a mournful sigh. "I don't know if you can hear me..." Either he spoke to Derek or to God, at this point he didn't know, but maybe praying would help. "Whatever happens- I want you to know I'm sorry. I didn't- How could I know? I mean, I don't _know_, but... Whatever it is, whatever happened, I wanted to find out.

"Things got messed up. There's so much I can think of that I wish I could say..." Shuffling himself in his seat, he straightened himself, looking at the wolf's chest rise and fall so slowly. "Derek." The anger brewed in him, knowing he could hear him. "Derek! Now you listen to me. You gotta hold on a little bit longer. Okay? I don't care if we don't have a cure, it doesn't matter. Know what? Scott's out there looking, and Erica's in the other room, crying. Her and Boyd need you, they need their Alpha. Even Peter and Isaac are out there, they're fighting for you, they want you to pull through this!

"I KNOW YOU HEAR ME!" Stiles shot out of his seat and stood over Derek, shouting, the tears blurring his vision as he glared down at him. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP RIGHT NOW AND FIGHT! DON'T GIVE UP LIKE THIS! PLEASE! Please don't give up... God... If there's a God out there, fix this! Just fix this and I won't ever ask for anything else again..."

Squat on the ground beside Derek, the wolf's giant hand hung over the side of the bed, Stiles watched the blood trickle down. It rolled like black pearls from the wound, the sutures torn out and infection spread across his torso. Hesitating, he took Derek's hand, feeling the blood run between his fingers, but didn't loosen his grip.

"I'm here, okay? Just do me a favor and hold on."

Silence followed for what felt like hours, the minutes passing like days. The entire house waited on baited breath, listening to the boy in the other room break down and bear his broken heart. But none of them could help, not a single one of them could go to him, there was nothing they could say or do to ease the pain. Locked in their own grief, all they could do was wait.

His shouts had woken the wolf, who lay fighting to open his eyes, to have one last word with the boy that cared too much. Feeling the slender fingers grip his hand, he drew in as deep a breath as he could, feeling his own fingers curl around the boy's. His eyes barely opened, and all he could see was a silhouette, but he knew it was Stiles sitting there, being an ever loyal friend.

"Your hand's clammy," he groaned, only holding onto Stiles' tighter.

Laughing through his tears, Stiles fought to smile, looking at Derek like he'd never see him again. He wouldn't though, not at this rate. "Yeah, well, you're a sour wolf. Deal with it."

The pair shared a chuckle, as much as it pained Derek to even breathe at this point. He looked at the boy, wishing it hadn't been this way, that he were a wolf too maybe, at least that way he'd have a pack when this all ended. They were going to need Stiles when he was gone, to hold them together and figure out all the stuff no one else could. He was the glue that kept them from falling apart, a broken lamp stuck with the unwavering cling Stiles had on them all.

"You're too skinny," he muttered, getting another scoff from the scrawny human, "Have Boyd teach you to lift weights. And have Erica show you how to strut a little; you're a good kid, you just gotta make people notice you a little more. Make sure Peter isn't too hard on Isaac, and tell Scott-"

"Tell him yourself," Stiles shot back, smiling. He knew as well as Derek it was the end of the road, but he still didn't want to admit it. There was never a good time for goodbyes, and he wasn't ready to let Derek say his yet.

The wolf looked over to the boy and saw the pain in his eyes. Maybe if things had been different... But too many things would have had to change to make it work. Derek had always been running, but Stiles made him stay, he got him to move back to a town that had cast him out years ago and wouldn't let him leave. He understood all the pain and adversities he'd been through, but still wouldn't waver on his hatred of how he treated those around him.

Maybe if he'd let him in, trusted him, if no one else. Had he let him really see, rather than figure out on his own what was going on inside him, so many things would have been easier, would have turned out better. But Derek's greatest fault was not trusting others because he'd never really trusted himself. Doubt plagued him until his dying day, and was what had him laying there, taking his last breaths.

"What do you wanna talk about then?" He didn't know how long he'd be awake, or how long he had before the lights went out. Talking to Stiles was the only thing keeping him there, helping him fight.

Stiles shook his head, reluctant to have any kind of conversation he would remember as their last. "I don't know..."

There was so much pain locked away in his diverted eyes. Derek wanted him to look at him, to reassure him he was there, that he wasn't alone, but he understood why Stiles couldn't. That didn't stop him from needing him though.

Shaking the boy's hand, which still held onto his own, the wolf urged him to say what was on his mind. "Come on, Stiles. Ask me."

Feeling his resolve break, Stiles sighed and looked over to Derek, tears streaking down his face as their eyes met. "Why'd you run away? The other night, why didn't you-"

"Come back? I was scared."

Scoffing at his reply, Stiles looked off again, only to be shaken back into place by Derek's hand giving his a squeeze.

"Look at me. I didn't know what to do. You acted on a gut reaction and I went too far-"

"You didn't-"

"I did. I'd been holding onto that for way too long... and I got carried away. But I need you to know-"

"No."

"Listen! I need you to know I'd wished we'd done that a long time ago."

Stiles let his head hang as the tears flowed from his eyes. They'd kissed when they had needed to, when it made sense, it was just wasn't the right time where the rest of the world was concerned. The ironic part about all of it was that, for all the questions that had rocked him since they'd kissed, it took Derek being on his death bed to figure out what it all meant.

"Are you gonna tell me-"

"No. Not yet. We're not saying goodbye, remember?"

Giving a light scoff, Stiles nodded, only to brace his free hand to his mouth as he coughed out a hard sob. This wasn't happening, not now. There was still so much he had to figure out, so many things, too many things they weren't going to get to do.

Derek's grip began to loosen, his hand slipping slowly from Stiles', and the boy quickly grabbed hold of it in both of his, squeezing it tightly. "Hey! Hey! Don't do that! Don't give up yet!"

Teetering on the brink of darkness, Derek's eyes wavered, fighting as hard as he could to keep them open. As Stiles grew back into focus, a smile crept across the wolf's lips, hoping all the best for the boy who cared too much.

"Ask Scott to teach you how to howl at the moon sometime..."

The lights dimmed and Stiles' face faded, a blanket of darkness wrapped itself around him, until all the pain left him, and he felt at peace. His fingers uncurled and hand grew limp, his chest no longer rising nor falling but still, without any breath to move it.

Wracked with disbelief, Stiles looked Derek over, frantic to see any sign of life, as if he was just faking or too weak, not dead though, he couldn't be dead. But reality laid there before him, growing colder as the minutes passed. Derek wasn't waking up, he didn't have anything else to say, he just wasn't there anymore.

The pain was so fine, like a hot coil wrapping around his heart, burning him from the inside. It took him a moment to cry, to feel the weight hit him, but the moment it did, he felt like his whole body had been lit on fire. His cry began small, nothing more than a drawn out whimper, growing longer and louder. He fell against the bed, almost screaming.

Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, Stiles fought back all the pain, he kept from raising the alarm, though the whole house had already heard him. Erica had run out crying, with Boyd following close behind. Isaac hid away in another room, crying softly to himself, while Peter sat at the broken sofa and let a few tears fall for his nephew.

Erica nearly bowled Scott over as she ran past he and Dr. Deaton, dropping his heart into the pit of his chest. They were too late. "No way!" Breaking into a sprint, Scott ran into the house, running frantically into the back room where they'd brought Derek the day before, finding his friend sitting beside the bed, holding himself.

Stiles had pulled himself into a ball, face hidden in his knees, too tired and drained to even weep. It was his mother all over again, only this time Derek wasn't supposed to leave. He was tougher than that, he spat in the face of death, he didn't give in to it. What happened to him fighting? What happened to the chance he kept waiting for? When was he going to get his chance to be happy, to have what he wanted?

There was nothing to say. Scott merely placed a hand upon Stiles' shoulder and sat there beside him, being there for him through everything, just like it had always been. He knew what a broken heart felt like, but he got to see Alison every day, he knew she was okay; it was nothing compared to this. There was nothing he'd been through that could make him understand what Stiles felt, but that didn't mean he couldn't be there for him.

Dr. Deaton walked in and looked at the two boys sat in front of the bed, and at Derek laying there dead. He let out a heavy sigh and approached the pair of boys, standing over them with a consoling expression in his eyes. "I'm sorry to do this, boys, but I'm going to have to ask you to move."

Scott glanced up at his employer inquisitively, confused for a moment. But Dr. Deaton had always known things he didn't explain, could do things none of them understood, and knew by now not to question the man. As carefully as he could, he began pulling Stiles away, trying to move him away from the bed.

"NO!" Stiles shoved Scott away and glared up at the veterinarian, or whatever he was. "You can tell him he had his chance to help about twenty minutes ago! I'm gonna sit here until I see fit to move."

"He hasn't been dead long. I can help."

"I feel like moving now." All he'd needed to hear were the magic words 'I can help', it didn't matter if it was too late. Ever hopeful, Stiles needed this one last shot, even if it didn't work. He'd wait to wipe his tears away, but if this worked, he'd owe the doctor so much.

The two watched on as the man set to work, toiling over the wound, then placing his hands on Derek's chest. He muttered a few incoherent words, gave the wolf's chest a single push, and stepped away.

Stiles waited on baited breath, waiting for something to happen, anything, but nothing. "Well what's supposed to happen?"

Dr. Deaton turned to Stiles and smiled, wiping his hands of the blackened blood. "Now we wait."

Hours passed. They had all moved to the living room, Stiles sitting at the busted out window as Peter stood watch over Erica and Boyd, who had returned not long after they had left. Scott had wandered off to find Isaac and talk to him, doing what was right as Alpha, looking after his Beta. No word still on Jackson or Lydia, they hadn't been heard from in a while -run off the night the alphas came to round everyone up- but surely he'd felt his Alpha die, just like the rest of them.

It didn't seem like they were waiting anymore, just biding their time before one of them braved going to get Derek from the other room and bring him to his grave. None of them wanted to do that to Stiles, they knew the fight he'd give, or worse, the fight they wouldn't see in him anymore. So they all sat with their grief, realizing they weren't going to be safe against these enemies, that if Derek could fall, any of them could be next.

Peter surprised them all, not jumping to fill the shoes of Alpha, choosing instead to remain silent, respecting the moment for what it was. Dr. Deaton hadn't come out of the room, which they all suspected was because he was doing them all the favor of cleaning up what he could, wrapping Derek up so none of them had to see him that way.

Footsteps sounded from the back hall, turning a few heads, and drawing out Scott and Isaac. They all watched, speechless, as Stiles continued looking blankly out the broken window. The silence was even more defining than before, sending a chill through the air.

Finally someone spoke, softly uttering a single word, "Stiles..." and there stood Scott, smiling over to his friend.

Stiles turned to look over at the wolf, seeing the figure standing in the doorway. Hesitating a moment, he moved from the light of the window, stopping dead the moment he realized who it was.

There, strong and healthy, and very much alive, stood Derek, infection cleared and wound healing, looking longingly over to the boy who cared too much. He'd had more faith than any of them, he'd stayed by him when all hope was lost, and he made sure not to give up on him. It was his determination that kept Derek fighting long enough to be standing there now, and all he wanted now was to thank him.

Standing slowly, Stiles looked on in disbelief. He was sure they'd said goodbye, he'd felt it, but now it was like it hadn't happened. Was this real? After everything, was he getting a second chance, a chance to have something good?

With neither of them making a move, Peter did the right thing and ushered Erica and Boyd from the room, taking Scott and Isaac with him. They walked out to the porch and Isaac to the garden to fill in the whole he'd dug, leaving Derek and Stiles alone together.

The silence sat between them a few minutes longer, letting Stiles have the time he needed to realize what was happening. It wasn't every day someone came back from the dead, but maybe he hadn't really died, he'd only been in that in-between place, the one just before you left, and Dr. Deaton had managed to bring him back. Whatever it was, it didn't matter, he was still here.

The first to break the silence, Derek spoke softly, guilt hanging in his words. "I never got to tell you what I wanted you to tell Scott."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"To make sure you found someone to actually see you, instead of looking through you."

"I'll make sure to give him the message."

"Thanks."

Another silence hung in the air a moment before Derek began stepping forward. He seemed to be charging for Stiles, though his pace was slow, cautious, almost scared. It wasn't nearly as scared as Stiles felt, as his mind and heart both raced, watching the wolf descend upon him.

Less than a foot away, Derek stopped, his eyes locked on Stiles'.

"Yeah, if you meant you, by the way, I think it's safe we leave Scott out of it."

Trust that it would be the boy's sarcasm to be the flag he needed. Closing the gap between them, Derek placed a hand on either side of Stiles' slender face, and took him in for the kiss he should have given him ages ago.

It took him less than a second to wrap his arms around the wolf, hanging his hands off his broad shoulders, and returned the kiss. He wasn't scared anymore and he wasn't confused, he'd had plenty of time to work all he needed out as far as he needed to. All that mattered was that Derek saw him, he always had, as annoyed as he got sometimes, even with all the aggression, they'd always looked out for each other despite everything.

Stiles understood better than anyone all the pain Derek lived with every second of the day, how lost he really was, and how scared he could be. He saw through the anger at moments that truly mattered, and did all he could to save a man that everyone else didn't think was worth saving. For that alone, it made him feel something he didn't think he could feel for another person ever again, but it transformed him, made him whole again.

Their kiss lasted forever, or what felt like it. They parted slowly, Derek leaving a small peck upon Stiles' lips before giving him room to breathe. He looked at the boy, subtly smirking as he ran his thumbs along his cheeks, wiping away his tears.

"I'm not leaving. Promise."

Derek's eyes danced around Stiles' a moment, watching as the grin spread slowly across his lanky features. They stood there grinning at each other, Erica and Isaac looking in through the window, only to look back at the rest of them with matching grins of their faces as well. At least for today they'd found the light in the darkness, a way to keep them all going while they fought like hell in the coming days.

Distractions mounting, his Betas still not reaching their full potential, Derek worked tirelessly at training. Constantly honing his own body, as well as that of Erica and Boyd, he avoided losing himself, avoided Stiles. He had to focus on the task at hand, driving the Alphas out of Beacon Hills and protecting his pack.

Peter helped where he could, but more where he wanted to, and though Scott was doing his own thing with Isaac, he seemed willing to help as well. The only element missing was Jackson; he'd disappeared and without his help, Derek feared they would not have all the strength they needed to win.

The lack of any solid plan was weighing on him though. No matter how much strength and training they had, without a strategy, they were going to lose. It was where Stiles normally came in, but having him around was too dangerous, more for Derek than for the boy at this point. He couldn't risk getting lost in his feelings at a time like this, and Stiles would be a distraction they couldn't afford.

His thoughts already wandered too much as it was, clouded by a lack of sleep and that ever present longing. It had become irritating, too present to ignore, and he hated it, resenting his own feelings for betraying his concentration.

Images of that night, the night he'd come back from the dead, plagued him. The darkness haunted him each time he closed his eyes, shaking him from his sleep and preventing him from any rest. Then there was their kiss, a real one to make up for the awkward first one they shared, which had felt like a horrible mistake, initially.

Maybe it was a mistake entirely, there was no place for a human and werewolf in this world, not with the way things were. It wasn't safe for Stiles, it never had been, yet he thrust himself into everything those much stronger than him could barely handle. He was brave but stupid, and Derek was cruel for even associating with him, let alone what had transpired most recently between them.

Kisses lead to complications, they lead to pain, and could destroy everything. Derek couldn't let anything happen to the human that chose to run with wolves, not if he could help it. Stiles would do what he wanted, but there was no way he could live with himself if he knew something happened to him because he chose to follow him for any other reason other than what he'd normally do.

The boy was loyal to a fault, which Derek respected, as annoying as it could be at times. But his loyalty would get him killed, he was too weak, to human to handle all of this. He could change it, he could receive the bite and be one of them, but Derek respected Stiles' choice not to. That didn't make it any easier though, as no amount of respect would save him in a fight, or protect him from a wound only a werewolf could survive.

His anger ran though him like a fine sting coursing through his veins, frustrated knowing how complicated he'd let everything become. Nothing was ever simple, that was how life went, but his life left no room for moments like he'd had with Stiles. The truth of that bothered him more than anything, and all he had was the anger it left him with.

That ever persistent anger, the anchor he resented as much as he utilized. The full moon was coming, the Alphas would be at their strongest, and though his anger was a tool he had once been able to use, this time he was left doubting it.

Anger wouldn't be enough, but he had no idea what else to use. If not anger, what else was there? Anything else would be a distraction, and that's all it came down to. It was difficult enough trusting his pack, giving himself over to that risk, but he tried each day to do so. There was too much uncertainty in it though, and that uncertainty bread doubt and weakness.

Derek sat alone with his thoughts, the others leaving him to rest back in the ruins of his family home. They would all fight for him, give their all, and do what they could to win. But would it be enough? For some reason he couldn't see past his doubt, which are away at him slowly.

The silence around him was deafening, making it impossible to stay focused, to remain awake. His eyes would close, the darkness would creep in, and he would wake in a panic, afraid he'd died again. He needed to sleep, his body and mind needed to rest, but it seemed like a grave impossibility at this point. Without sleep he would never last in a fight, he would fall, and his pack would suffer for it.

A pair of hesitant footsteps sounded behind him, walking slowly into the abandoned station. Alert enough to hear them approach, Derek doubted he'd be able to fight off any attack at this point, but he was prepared. Turning slightly to look over his shoulder, ready for whomever appeared, he growled, knowing it would all but ward them off.

The figure appeared, eyes glowing blue, and there stood Jackson, looking like he'd just been in a fight. Derek was to his feet in less then a second, marching over to the wolf, wanting to demand answers of where he'd been, but knew something else more important had happened.

"They took them," was all he said, the shame hanging in his scratched and beaten expression.

"Who? Who'd they take?"

But the wolf did not reply, he simply shook his head, his eyes growing dim and lifeless. Something had happened to shake the otherwise cold and unmoving young man, which only served to escalate Derek's concern.

"Jackson! Who did they take?" he shouted, grabbing hold of the boy, nearly shaking him.

Tears began falling from the young wolf's eyes as his head bowed and body seemed to cave in on itself. Letting loose his grip, Derek sighed, doing his best to contain his own worry. His mind raced, imagining all the devastating things he wished couldn't be true, but anything was possible, which terrified him.

Stiles, all he could think of was Stiles. But how would they have gotten hold of him? Why him? But it was possible, it was so horribly possible that it left Derek's heart racing and blood nearly boiling. He needed to know, had to hear the actual words.

"Who did they take?" His voice was frighteningly calm and stern as he demanded a answer.

"Lydia and Stiles," Jackson reluctantly replied, the names themselves finally breaking him, leaving him to collapse under the weight of them.

"How?" Derek demanded, the fury tearing its way through him, "HOW, JACKSON! HOW DID THEY TAKE THEM?"

"I tried..." the wolf sobbed, "I tried fighting them off alone. But I- I couldn't-" The guilt was obviously too much for the boy to handle, leaving him a mess of tears, shaking as he sat on his knees, defeated.

Needing to know exactly what happened so he could help them, Derek placed his hands upon Jackson's shoulders, picking him up off the ground. "What happened?" his voice was calm once more, but would not be for long. "Tell me exactly what happened."

It was getting colder, the trees all hung bare, casting shadows in the night, making the darkness even more unnerving. Letting the breath billow from his mouth in a large cloud, encircling his head, Stiles stood bobbing in place, trying to keep warm. He'd decided to save his battery, choosing to get out once he'd gotten cold enough, and had walked around a bit, before he got the text.

They were close, not close enough though. How they could be walking in this weather was beyond him, but at least they were on their way. Happy to have even heard from them finally, Stiles held onto a random hope that maybe he'd get a chance to talk to Lydia about everything.

She was so much smarter than she ever let on, he'd always known it; when no one else saw the real her, he had. Of anyone he knew, he trusted her honest opinion above all else, and he wanted her opinion on everything she'd missed. Yes, he wanted to ask her about Derek, but it only made sense to.

Lydia had been the one person Stiles had wanted since he could remember, she was his ideal for so long, he'd worshiped her. But she'd chosen Jackson, leaving him with his ever devoted and unwavering pining. Had any of that changed though? He couldn't tell, he was so unsure of everything, other than the fact he'd enjoyed kissing Derek, which in turn confused him even more.

God, why couldn't life be simple? But no, there were werewolves and Kenema, hunters, psycho killers, and random kisses between enemies that totally went against former sexualities, on top of homework and prom. All they needed was a random teen pregnancy and they'd have all the bases covered, but he wasn't about to hope for that one.

Stealing his hands from his pockets, Stiles brought them to his mouth to blow on them to try and warm them, get the blood going again. He turned his attention from one end of the road to the either, unsure which direction they'd be coming from. All they'd told him was to meet them at this spot, that they needed a ride back into town, and to stay as low key as possible.

He had no idea what was going on, where they'd gone, or why he had to meet him out in the middle of nowhere. And though he would have normally figured it to be a trap, he had a feeling it wasn't. Trusting Lydia without question, Stiles had driven quickly to the spot she'd told him, and had been freezing his ass off for nearly half an hour now.

Breath still heating the palms of his hands, he turned back the other way, looking back toward where he'd come from. The condensation collected on his skin began to sting, and he wiped his hands on his sweater with a huff, stuffing them back in his pockets with a sigh.

"That didn't work." He was growing ever steadily impatient, watching as his breath grew fainter the colder he got. Wishing they'd get there already, Stiles couldn't help but worry why it had taken them this long in the first place. Had something happened?

His eyes looked off into the darkness, taking for granted the empty distance. Had he looked away that very second, he would have missed them. There, coming up along side the mountain that cast a looming shadow, were the figures of Jackson and Lydia.

The moment they saw each other, Stiles and Lydia ran to one another, wrapping their arms around each other as they collided. Standing in tight embrace, he let out a relieved breath. It had been so long since anyone had heard anything from either of them, he'd worried something had happened.

Jackson walked slowly to meet the pair, his eyes looking out over the valley of trees, back toward Beacon Hills. He looked scared, like someone was tracking them, waiting in the shadows, ready to pounce. It had been like this since they'd started heading back, always looking over his shoulder, not trusting for a moment they were safe.

"We need to get off this road," his eyes darted around in the dark, looking past Stiles to his jeep.

"Right! Yeah, yeah! Sure!" Awkwardly parting his hug with Lydia, Stiles turned back toward the car, fumbling with the keys in his frozen fingers.

He got as far as the hood, walking along side the tire, before getting hit from behind. Tackled to the ground, his face hitting the pavement hard, Stiles groaned, feeling the weight of another body on top of him. Though he tried, he couldn't get his arms around to push himself up, and no matter how he struggled, he couldn't turn his head to see what was happening.

Lydia screamed from somewhere behind him, while he heard snarls and growls all around. A claw dug into his back, giving him flashes of people screaming and running, and he had to blink a few times to realize it wasn't what he was seeing through his own eyes.

Something flew past his head and into his jeep, denting the door before kicking up gravel and running back into the fray. It had been Jackson, fighting with all his might to protect the two humans. Then he heard Lydia's screams stop, felt the alpha on top of him get off, and was yanked off the ground. The world spun for a moment then went black.

Jackson labored to push himself up off the ground, feeling the sting of defeat tear and burn inside each and every one of his muscles. His strength was no match for the Alphas, being an Omega. He was weak, too weak to stand a chance against them. Young and barely attuned to his abilities, they overpowered him easily, and now Stiles and Lydia would suffer for it.

He heard them, unable to see where they had gone, but knew they'd be waiting for him. They had taken the humans as bait, knowing their importance to the werewolves of Beacon Hills would draw them all out to rescue them. Evil bastards did their homework.

Finally to his feet, Jackson turned back toward Stiles' car, only to find the motor gutted and completely destroyed. He'd have to walk it, and with how beat up he was, it was going to take all night.

Describing to Derek in as best detail as he could give, Jackson told him how the Alphas had beaten him and taken Lydia and Stiles. He explained the state they'd been in; Lydia kicking and screaming, while Stiles hung limp, draped over the shoulder of one of them. And asked what they were going to do to get them both back.

"They're looking for a fight, Derek."

The wolf didn't need the boy telling him what he already knew. There was only one reason to take the two humans that meant something to every wolf in Beacon Hills, and this time they'd gone too far.

Take his Betas, yeah, that pissed Derek off, but take two innocent kids, there was no coming back from that. They were dead, every last one of them. Scott had tried convincing him to merely drive the Alphas out, but they weren't going anywhere, that was never really an option. Now it was beyond personal, this was evil and cruel; this was war.

Cutting through the air like a sward, the wolf's massive claws came down and struck hard against flesh. Skin tore away as the sound of breaking bone echoed throughout the cave. Another slash and the alpha's jaw was completely dislocated, leaving him bloody and laying motionless on the floor.

Another came from behind, leaping through the air at the wolf, roaring wildly as it bore its fangs. Ducking, the wolf brought up his claws and dug them into the fur lined stomach of the alpha, taking hold to then slam it hard onto the ground. It howled as he ripped open its stomach, tearing organs and leaving it to die.

The Betas all fought hard and kept their ground, teaming up two to an alpha. Isaac lay on the ground, barely moving but alive, while Scott wrestled with an alpha, Jackson clinging onto its back with ferociousness and determination. Erica and Boyd were not as lucky, both beaten to their knees as they tried their best to fight.

Derek watched, stunned, mind a mess of blind rage and instinct. Peter had left with Lydia, helping the stumbling girl to safety, but returned to help fight along side his nephew.

Protecting the young ones, he attacked the alpha dominating over Boyd and Erica. Tackling it to the ground, he managed to prevent it from completely decapitating the boy, who collapsed and was caught by the girl.

It took him a moment, looking around at the carnage, to remember what he'd come for, something he needed to take back, someone he had to rescue. Still lost within the wolf, Derek found it impossible to recall, all that was left was the instinct to find what was his, what he'd come for.

No time left to think, he reacted, charging forth to slam one of the alphas against the dank, stone walls of the cave. It had thrust Jackson from its back, taking a swipe at Scott, leaving the wolf completely dazed. But Derek had avenged him, crushing the alpha with the force of his propelled weight, breaking a number of its ribs.

It kept fighting though, kept snarling and thrashing its snout with chomping jaws at the wolf, trying to tear out his throat. Jackson came around and held its claw from slashing at his Alpha, allowing Derek the chance to grab hold of its head. Giving a hard yank, he snapped the alpha's neck, backing away to let it fall to the ground.

As he stood over the body, watching it lay motionless, his heart beat for what he'd lost, was had been stolen from him, and began remembering what it was. It wasn't a thing, it was someone, someone that cared too much, someone who had rescued him before as well.

Stiles. But where was he? The cave was large but no more deep than what they could see.

As Derek turned, looking for the boy, Peter and Jackson ran from the cave, running after the last alpha, who had escaped. They disappeared into the growing light, the dawn creeping in upon them swiftly. Their snarls could be heard in the distance, echoing off the trees.

Terrified and shaken, Erica managed to wake Boyd, clinging to him as he lay healing, dazed and beaten. Isaac had also manage to wake himself, crawling slowly over to his Alpha, cautious of the body laying beside him. They were all so young and had seen a fight none of them should have, not at their age. But they had stood their ground, doing all they could to fight, despite being scared.

Had he not been distracted, trying desperately to find Stiles, Derek would have been proud of them all, even those he couldn't call his own. Instead, he ran behind every bolder, every stalagmite in search of the boy.

Nothing, no sign of him, only puddles of cave water and broken rocks. Where could he be? What had those wolves done with him?

Human once more, Derek turned frantically in spot, furious and worried. His chest heaved and eyes brimmed with furious tears. He'd failed; they'd won the battle but not the war, the alphas had taken the final victory.

His eyes drifted over to Scott, who had finally woken. The two exchanged glances, the worst written over Derek's expression, which only served to infuriate Scott. Getting quickly to his feet, he pushed Isaac away and stormed out of the cave, leaving Derek alone with the Betas.

They looked to him for guidance, a word of comfort or praise, but were given nothing. Snarling at Isaac as he took an apprehensive step toward the wolf, Derek's aggression scattered the young wolves toward the forest. They left him with his anger, unwilling to fight with him any longer.

The fight had broken them, left them all wounded in ways they would never be able to shake. All this for the ones they cared about, and yet Derek did not seem to appreciate it. He couldn't though, not when they had failed to recover the one human he had come for.

Stiles was helpless, frail, and had been pulled into the middle of a war. He shouldn't have been involved, he was safer staying home and being a kid, not running with wolves.

Seeing no use in remaining in the cave any longer, surrounded by the bodies of the dead alphas, he walked toward the mouth, toward the growing daylight. Peter approached from down the hill, walking past the teenagers as they stumbled down toward town.

"He got away," he sighed, shaking his head in disgust. It had been sheer luck the alpha had managed to get away from him, but Peter couldn't stand the means, nor his pride handle the blow. "But Lydia's safe," he interjected with a cavalier chime, "Acting her own, crazy self already, so I'm guessing she's fine."

Derek looked out to the forest, the fog walling in the trees, hiding the many miles the view would otherwise provide him. It grew thicker as they stood there, the cold trapping the clouds against the ground.

"Which way did he go?"

"We'll never find him in this!" Looking at his nephew as if he'd lost his mind, Peter questioned just how sane Derek was to even consider going after the alpha now.

"I'll find him," Derek protested simply, "and you'll help me. You have his scent." He shot the man a determined glare, assuring him that he would keep fighting, no matter the odds.

They needed to find the last alpha and get out of him where they'd left Stiles. He had to cling to hope, much like Stiles often did, and believe he was still alright, still alive and breathing. If not, Derek made himself a promise to personally torture the alpha. He'd cause him so much agonizing pain, he'd beg for death.

The two wolves took off into the forest, chasing after the trail left by the alpha. Where they found tracks they followed, but relied more on his scent, which hung in the fog like a picture nailed to a wall.

Down the mountain they went, going the opposite direction of Scott and the others. They'd all be safe, this fight wasn't theirs anymore. The alpha they were after was bigger, stronger, and meaner than the other three combined. Had Boyd not been protecting Erica from his claws, and Derek caught off guard by two attacking him at once, he would have been the one fighting him.

But he had Peter now, and the two of them together could easily defeat the wounded alpha, as wounded as they were themselves. They had the upper hand, finally, they were a pack against little more than an omega, their strength was matched, if not better.

Tracking him all the way down to the trickling waters of the stream, the two approached cautiously, finding the fog to have grown thicker and distance of sight less, the closer they drew to the water. The sound all traveled through the droplets and echoed strangely, disorienting their senses. All they had left was instinct, the smell of the alpha surrounding them, preventing them from sniffing him out.

Back to back they turned, hearing footsteps running from all directions around them. He laughed and the sound carried through the fog as if five men surrounded them rather than just one. Unwavering they held their ground, claws bared and fangs at the ready.

"Are you looking for something?" The voice mocked them through the white walls of mist. "Did you lose your little red riding hood?"

Derek growled as he whipped his head around, trying to find where the alpha was, knowing he was close.

"What was he doing with the big bad wolves anyway? Didn't he know it would get him eaten?"

Finally he attacked, coming at them from the side, and slashed his claws across Derek's stomach, catching the wolf off guard. Doubling over, Derek fought through the pain, quickly recovering, focused more than ever and prepared for the next attack.

"He's a talker, that one. I can't quite figure out why you'd keep him around. I mean he seems very inelegant, but what a waste. I wonder why you never offered him the bite, a kid like that usually jumps at the chance at being better and stronger."

Again he attacked, circling around them this time and attacking both wolves with a blind attack. Peter stood gripping his wounded chest, as Derek gripped his arm, the muscle torn and blood flowing from it.

"Stop hiding like a coward!" He shouted into the fog, his voice muted as if trapped in a glass bubble.

His demand was met with laughter, chuckling maniacally at the two helpless wolves. "Two against one? I think I'm better off staying in the fog. Fair fight that way.

"So tell me, Derek, why'd you never bite him? Does he not belong to you? Oh! Maybe he's that little pup-alpha's! What's his name? Steve?"

"Scott." The voice came from right in front of them, the familiar voice of the young alpha. Their eyes met, Scott's glowing yellow behind the wall of white, while Derek's glowed red, realizing then how to find their enemy.

"_Three_ against one? Now that _really_ isn't fair!"

The sound of the alpha's laughter faded into a disorienting silence. All the noises around them were trapped, stifled by the fog, leaving the three of them with absolutely nothing.

Had he fled? No, he was too malicious to not take back his pride and beat them all unfairly. The fight wasn't over, not by a long shot.

Derek watched, with the stream behind him, and looked through the fog for the alpha, sensing his impending attack. It came, but not without warning this time. Through the milky fortress of mist, glowed red the eyes of the alpha, as he barreled down on them.

Calming himself, finding his center, Derek clenched his fist, and as the alpha leaped into the air, he brought around his fist and punched him square in the jaw. Knocking him to the ground, Derek lunged for him, Peter and Scott following swiftly after.

As the four locked themselves in combat, three against one, the fog began to clear, opening up and parting upon the battle ground, allowing the fight to turn toward their favor. Snarls and growls filled the air, as blood spattered the ground. Fists flying and claws slashing, the three wolves managed to tackle the alpha to the ground, pinning him with no hope for escape.

Though he struggled, he could not break free; Scott had his legs while Peter had successfully managed to stand, pinning both his arms. Derek knelt beside him, his hand wrapped around the alpha's throat, eyes glowing once again. He had him right where he wanted him, where he deserved to be, in his clutches.

He lowered himself down, getting inches from the wolf's face, and growled, deep and low, wanting nothing more than to tear him apart. But there was something he needed from him first, before he could kill him.

"Where's Stiles?" he snarled, his breath surrounding the alpha's face in a thick, steamy cloud.

Struggling once more, he writhed, trying hopelessly to jerk his extremities free. Realizing his defeat, the alpha growled, contemplating his answer carefully.

"He's somewhere in the woods," he replied with a snide grin.

"WHERE!"

Strangled laughter escaped the alpha, snickering at them all. "Could be anywhere. We let him go."

Let him go? Why? The answer infuriated the wolf, who tightened his grip on the alpha's neck, nearly crushing him. "Why would you let him go?"

"Because," he coughed, "we knew you'd still come after him. But-"

The stipulation worried Scott, who's claws dug into the alpha's legs. "But what?"

"But we left him with a little gift before letting him loose."

His reply implied only one thing, the one thing Derek knew above all else would break the boy's spirit. Imagining this angered him beyond all logic or decency. Without a second's hesitation, he closed his grip on the alpha's throat, ripping it from his neck as he stood, tossing it down onto his body as he looked out on the forest.

Scott stood slowly, frightened for his friend, who was lost wandering the forest alone. He looked to Derek, who held a dazed and concerned expression the young wolf had never seen before. "What did he mean, 'a gift'?" But he knew the answer already.

The full moon was tonight, and they had only a few hours to find the boy before it rose. In their hearts, both Scott and Derek hoped what the alpha said wasn't true, that his lie was meant only to frighten them. But without knowing where to begin looking or the truth in what he'd said, they all had to assume it was true and that Stiles had been bitten.

The dark of the forest left him dazed, the many trees appearing barely a feet ahead of him, as he wandered through them, barely able to stand. His fingers curled around each sapling and hands braced against teach trunk he passed, doing all he could to remain on his feet. His head spun and body screamed in pain, while everything grew numb and blurred.

No longer aware of where he was or what had happened, Stiles struggled to move along, aimlessly wandering alone in the dark. Dulled images passed through his mind, though his consciousness struggled to ignore them. He couldn't face it yet, he had to get somewhere safe, anything else would likely kill him. Now wasn't the time to worry about anything other than getting home.

Stumbling to his knees, the boy forced himself back up to his feet, never stopping for a moment. He struggled and wavered as his body begged for rest, but would not relent, mindlessly traveling on ever forward. Not once did he look behind him, ignoring any sound that echoed throughout the night, but continued on in a haze of shock.

He couldn't recall stopping, nor the moment everything went black, but suddenly he was face down on the ground, looking into the pale morning light as it shone through the trees. Freezing and in agony, he slowly struggled to turn himself onto his side, reaching out to the soft, loose earth in front of him. The stones cut at his skin, as the leaves and twigs wedged their way between his fingers, until finally he laid there, facing the sky.

Though his wounds were great and many, he had lived through the night. Watching the fog lift from the ground, he saw birds fly from the canopy of the forest, soaring places he yearned to be, anywhere but here. But he couldn't move, he could barely feel his body, as he laid there with sticks poking into his back.

All he could do was lay there, slowly feeling his hope slip away, abandoning the idea of ever making it out of this forest alive. Never before had Stiles felt this all encompassing despair, his faith in chance gone. Though he knew magic existed, this time he doubted anything could save him.

Closing his eyes and slowly letting go of anything he had clung to, he remained still, taking in all the senses around him. He listened to the trickle of water behind him, the smell of dampness that surrounded him, and felt the ache that throbbed throughout his body gradually disappear.

Maybe this was what his mother had felt, a calm before it all ended, something peaceful and serine. He hoped that's what it had been for her, rather than the grip of fear and pain he had been sure he would have felt in her place. At least he'd see her again. But then his dad would be alone, he wouldn't have anyone to understand and be there; he'd be all alone suffering yet another loss, and he couldn't help but cry, knowing how this would kill his poor father.

His soft sobs continued on for what felt like hours, wishing there was something he could do just to keep his dad from hurting. He wished he could fight, wished he was strong like Scott and get off the ground and keep going. But he didn't have any strength left in him, nothing could save him at this point, and that left him feeling disgusted with himself.

Through his quiet tears he heard the distant sound of voices, ignored at first, too disenchanted to notice anything around him, but slowly heard them through his misery. They called out to him, familiar voices, all shouting frantically, searching for him through the endless trees. Scott and someone else he couldn't make out, maybe Jackson or Isaac.

Struggling with every ounce of strength he could muster, he turned, trying to turn himself toward them. Their figures moved through the distance, searching frantically, trying to find him. He cried out but found his voice too hoarse, catching like glue in his throat. Then again he tried, harder this time, hearing the sound break through the wall of mucus and swollen glands, belting out and echoing through the dense wood to them.

Hearing Stiles' cry, Scott turned, looking to a dark mound barely visible amidst a pile of dead leaves. Rushing to his friend's side, he fell to his knees and looked over him in chock.

His wounds seemed not to end, one running into another, and didn't seem to be healing. He couldn't tell yet how bad they were, or if they would turn the boy into a werewolf, but he had lost a lot of blood and would only lose more if they didn't get him out of there.

"What happened? We've been looking for you for hours!"

Stiles couldn't help the smile that appeared, as if laughing at how unexpected the chance was that they'd find him. Unsure if it was a dream or hallucination, he chose to believe it, clinging back onto whatever hope he'd thought he'd lost. The thought that he'd get to see his father again was all he needed, even if it wasn't real, he could die happy thinking that, that's what would happen.

"Guys! He's ever here!"

Hearing Scott call out to them, Derek stopped sharply and turned, running as fast as he could toward the direction the boy's voice had come from. Soon enough he saw him, knelt down beside the wounded human, and suddenly a new sort of dread filled him.

He'd thought they wouldn't find him, thought he was done for, his body lost forever in the woods; without a scent to go by, he'd feared all hope was lost. Now something more gripped him, the sight of Stiles and how badly he was injured. His wounds weren't healing, he could smell it before he even saw it, and it terrified him.

Slowing to a dead crawl the closer he got to seeing the actual wounds, Derek stood feet away, too stunned to move or even think.

Scott looked over his shoulder at the wolf, seeing Peter following close behind. He wasn't moving, wasn't doing anything, just standing there, staring. "Don't just stand there! Help me get him up!" Struggling to lift his friend on his own, Derek quickly joined him, lifting the boy with ease, to cradle him in his arms.

The pain of being moved left Stiles feeling sick, his head spinning so fast he nearly blacked out. Peter came up beside him and walked a few paces with them, removing his coat, and draped it over his broken form to keep him warm. Everything grew increasingly numb, and as soon as they were finally moving, Stiles let the pain take him, losing consciousness there in Derek's arms.

Rushing him up the side of the mountain, they set him carefully into Peter's truck, taking the boy back into town. They argued along the way, determining where to bring him, either home to his father who could do nothing but worry, or to the hospital where there would be questions, they even threw out the idea of bringing him back to the Hale home. What they needed to do was get him somewhere his wounds could be treated, and though Derek and Peter both protested, they drove into the hospital emergency lot, and began unloading Stiles from the truck.

Nurses rushed out to meet them, and worked with the wolves to place the boy on a gurney and rush him as quickly into the ICU as possible. Following them, Scott and Derek were stopped at a pair of doors, told only family could enter past that point, and were left to sit in the waiting room and worry.

Hours passed, Scott sat with his face buried in his hands while Derek paced angrily. His pacing had slowed, but picked up from time to time, finding him ever impatient and anxious with concern. Peter stood watch over them both, doing little to give support, and merely watched his nephew storming from one side of the room to the other.

It did no good just standing there, waiting. Aware news of the boy's condition would take ages to reach them, he stopped the tempered Alpha, and finally produced an ounce of guidance. "Go home. Your Betas fought hard for you last night. Don't leave them hanging."

Derek glared at his uncle a moment before giving a reluctant sigh. His eyes fell on the young wolf, who looked up from his hands, nodding.

"I'll let you know if anything happens," Scott assured him, knowing his friends needed their Alpha and that Peter was right. Derek was only going to get himself worked up into a fit standing there, he needed something to distract him.

Frustrated at both of them, Derek stormed from the room, passing through the sliding doors with Peter not far behind. He walked past Peter's truck, ignoring his uncle's offer to drive him, as he shouted after him. A walk would do him good, give him a chance to clear his head. He didn't need to sit awkwardly inside the car with someone, silent and stewing, knowing there was nothing else he could do.

One thing Derek could never take was feeling helpless, that lack of control, the inability to do anything no matter how much he wanted to with every fiber of his being, drove him insane. It was his family all over again, like watching them burn and not being able to rush into the flames to save them. He wanted it to be different, wanted to prevent something like that happening again, but here he was, helpless once more, useless.

Part of him wished he didn't care, things were so much easier when he shut others out of his heart. Being alone was never a way to live, and power wasn't worth anything without trust. Opening himself up to gain the trust of his pack, which he'd built to have control, had caused as much trouble -if not more- as when he'd kept them all at arms reach.

But Stiles, he just wormed his way in, having to care too much about everyone else, even someone he hated. He'd made Derek feel something he had _never_ wanted to feel again, and now he was suffering for it.

He wished he could turn it off, that worry, that constant thought of how frail the boy was. It wasn't like he'd asked to be cared about, but he'd started to care anyway, both of them having concern over the other, despite the bad blood between them.

As he trudged through the woods, returning to his pack, his phone rang, just as his house came into view. Stopping to answer it, turning his back to the burnt remains of his family home, and listened to the voice on the other end.

"He's up!" Scott's voice frantically shouted from the other end, followed by clamoring and other people's voices before the call dropped.

Peter had stepped out onto the porch as he spotted Derek standing there, only to see him take off back toward the hospital. Running to his truck, he followed the wolf, stopping in front of him to offer him a ride. Derek got in and the two tore off toward the hospital, fearing the worst.

They entered and there stood Stiles in his gown, arms flailing as a group of nurses and orderlies surrounded him. The IV was still attached to his arm, pulled by the tube, which bled where it was inserted into his vein. Eventually the stand fell, yanking the bag with it, and with the pain of the IV ripping from his arm, Stiles buckled, allowing the nurses all to rush in.

Fighting against their aid, Stiles pushed one to the ground, knocking another back a few feet, and watched her slam against the wall. He stood there, stunned, shocked by his own strength, afraid he'd hurt the woman. Distracted, an orderly rushed him from behind, but he reacted on the turn of a dime, and knocked him back as well, sending him almost flying down the hallway.

A team of doctors rushed around the corner, coming at the boy with needles, ready to sedate him, but he turned to face them, holding out his hands to keep him at bay. "Don't! Don't!" he cried, knowing his instinct and reflexes would only get them hurt at this point, but it did not stop them.

One by one he threw them on their backs, tossing them about like rag dolls. Terrified, Scott rushed at him, letting out the wolf in order to match his friend's strength, but was thrown as well, groaning in pain as he landed.

Seeing his opportunity, with Stiles' back to him, Derek ran at the boy, his wolf out and ready for whatever reaction he might have. Peter remained where he was, ready to help his nephew if he was needed, but knew he needed the chance to do this on his own.

Derek came at Stiles, who quickly swung his bleeding arm around, ready to cut Derek across the face. The wolf ducked the attack, plowing into Stiles, and tackled him to the ground.

Stiles laid there a moment as Derek lifted himself off him, watching him writhe slightly in pain. Still thinking he was frail, he watched to ensure he had not harmed the boy, hoping he hadn't used too much strength against him. But as their eyes met, something happened, a sensation rushed through the wolf's body that frightened him, and he quickly got to his feet.

Sitting himself up slowly, never once taking his eyes off the werewolf, Stiles trembled, having felt something too. He was frightened, confused, and dreaded admitting what had happened. Knowing but unwilling to acknowledge it, he pleaded with his eyes for an answer, hoping someone would say something, tell him what was going on.

Looking back at Scott, who groaned as he pushed himself up off the ground, Stiles remembered quickly what he'd done. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" he cried, "I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright..." Huffing as he stood, Scott nodded reassuringly to his friend. Concerned as everyone else was, he remained composed, remembering all too well how he had felt when he'd first been bitten. The last thing Stiles needed right now was to be any more freaked out than he obviously already was. "Really, Stiles, it's alright, just try and stay calm."

"Calm? Stay calm. I'm sorry, but I just knocked out a whole floor of doctors and nurses, I'm not sure how to be calm about that, Scott!"

The clinking of keys was heard coming around the corner, alerting them all. Derek turned and moved back toward Stiles, reaching out his hand to grab hold of the boy's arm. "Come on!" he urged as he snatched him up, "We gotta get out of here!"

Scott scrambled to join them as the police officers turned down the hallway and came for them, their hands held over their sidearms. Derek rushed past Peter with Stiles clutched by his shoulders, and the four of them rushed to jump into the truck and take off. Through the rear-view they could see the officers clamber out the doors and slow as they looked around for any sight of them, but they were gone.

Turning back around in his seat, Scott sighed, the only one he'd get for a while. At least they'd escaped the police; that was a fight they couldn't afford to have right now. They had something much more important to worry about, and it sat in the back seat, staring out the window at the passing trees.

He knew what was happening to him, knew that as it got darker around them, what was going to happen, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. There had been so many times Stiles envied Scott and the things he could do, his physical strengths and his ability to heal, but he'd never wanted it for himself. Any offer that had been given to him he'd passed up with barely any need to consider it, but now he'd had that choice stolen from him.

It was a chance Scott had never been given, to choose, and though he'd chosen to decline so many times, he knew he had no right to complain now. He at least had known what would happen to him, knew what he was now, where he'd had to look it up to explain it to his friend so long ago. At least he wasn't in the dark, confused by what he'd done in the hospital, but that didn't make it any easier to accept.

He'd never wanted to be a werewolf, as much as he might have envied those around him at times, it wasn't what he wanted. Life was complicated enough without having that added on. He knew how Scott had to hide what he was from everyone, how careful he had to be, the dangers of hunters and all the other things out there that threatened him and those like him.

But he'd been part of that world this whole time, right along side Scott since day one. He'd fought all the same enemies, did all he could to help, aware he couldn't do what any of them did, but did it anyway, even when he thought he was nothing but a weak human. All of it he'd done because he cared, because he couldn't bring himself to sit back and let those he cared about get hurt, to leave his best friend to do everything alone. Yet being a werewolf just seemed like the worst thing in the world for him, as if he wasn't meant for it.

He was Stiles, the scrawny kid that warmed the bench his entire high school career, who everyone made fun of, he wasn't a hero. Forget the game he'd won, the way he'd saved the team form defeat, or all the countless times he'd saved Scott or Derek, or any one of his friends with both his intellect and his physical sacrifice. Those didn't dawn on him, they weren't important; to Stiles, they didn't count.

Derek sat beside him, looking over at him from the corner of his eye, and watched him staring out the window. He was watching for the moon, at least that was what he'd do if he were him. They still had about an hour before it posed a threat, and they'd be somewhere safe by then.

Realizing they'd have to chain the boy up to prevent him from harming anyone, Derek grabbed hold of Peter's seat, getting his attention. "Where are we going?"

"The station. I had the kids head that way before you turned up at the house. I was waiting for you. Then you took off suddenly, I figured you'd gotten the call. So we're headed there. Everyone should already be shackled and ready for the full moon."

Turning to look at Stiles, Derek saw him look away from Peter, back to the world outside the window. He had nothing he could say to him, no words of comfort or solace, only things the boy already knew. Rather than say anything, Derek placed his hand between them, right beside Stiles', knowing he wouldn't take it, but leaving it there if he chose to.

Looking out his own window, watching as the abandoned station came into view, he sighed quietly to himself. This would likely be the most painful night in the boy's life, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it or make it easier for him; for that Derek was the most sorry.

Had they gotten to them sooner, had they found the Alphas before this had happened. But there was no taking it back, no regret that could undo what had been done.

Feeling the wolf's large hand laying next to his, Stiles glanced down at their hands, looking up to find Derek's attention turned away, and took his hand to lay it in his own lap. He didn't want comfort, he didn't want anything right now other than to keep the beast that was about to emerge from harming anyone. Not that he thought Derek actually wanted to hold his hand; at this point he believed the kisses they'd shared were flukes and nothing but.

The silence suffocating them as they drove only continued as they entered the station. Derek marched ahead of them to check that everyone was fastened down and ready to turn, while Scott stood beside Stiles, watching Peter walk calmly off to help his nephew.

Patiently Scott stood by his best friend, being there for him as he had done the same. Time wasn't on their side, but he knew Stiles needed a moment, a chance to make the move on his own.

"So you just chain me up and I won't go on a mass murder, kill, terror spree, right?"

For a brief second, Scott smirked, glad to know Stiles hadn't lost his sarcasm, defense or not. It faded as he looked over to him and nodded, "That's the idea... But I'll be there the whole time, making sure you don't get loose. I'm here, Stiles, don't worry."

"Oh I'm not worried about that..." He looked off toward the train car, watching the figures move behind the grime coated windows. It wasn't the wolf he feared, the animal rage that would leave him carnal and murderous, it was the pain. The idea that it would hurt, that he'd be in pain, frightened the hell out of him.

Taking a moment longer before he felt the first bit of ache course through his body, tearing at his muscles and bones, Stiles sighed, as if nothing worried him, and began marching toward the car and certain agony. Better to get it done and over with than wait another minute, prolonging it would only make it worse.

It was dark and cold, a frightening enough setting without knowing he'd be surrounded by monsters. But there stood all his friends, their eyes all glued on him, looking at him like they always did in school, making him feel even more the outcast.

Erica had an almost mournful expression on her face, while Boyd and Isaac both looked at him like he had something hanging out of his nose. Jackson's expression was blank, though he felt the most guilty, turning his head quickly away so not to look at the boy. In a way, Stiles was grateful for that, angry in his own way for Jackson having indirectly put him in this position. It would be a while until he could feel anything for him other than resentment, let alone feel sorry for him ever again.

Derek stood, chains in hand, waiting for Stiles, watching as the boy looked at all the faces around him. He stepped aside to make room for him, his eyes following him steadily as he walked past and took a seat.

Hesitantly placing his hands through the bar at the top of the seat in front of him, he looked at them rather than the wolf as he wrapped the chains around his wrists. Another chain was wound around his waist, anchoring him to the seat he was in, then another for his feet, to the pole beside him.

"Yeah, I think that's good." Looking up from the chains, past Derek completely, Stiles looked toward Scott, who stood in the doorway, nearly in tears. "Hey, it's not so bad," he insisted, trying to ease his best friend's worry, "I always thought getting tied up might be fun. Granted, this is a little more extreme-"

"I'm sorry for whatever I might have to do." All Scott could imagine was Stiles breaking free from his chains, which would leave him no other choice but to attack his friend.

A gentle nod, Stiles gave a shaky but reassuring smile to him. "It's alright, I'm sure I'll be asking for it."

Wishing there was something he could say, some place he had to stand in all of this, Derek remained silent. Stepping through the sea of young wolves, he stood with Scott, Peter, and Isaac, ready for the others to turn. His eyes lingered on Stiles a moment, before seeing the boy turn his head angrily away, feeling an ache grow within his heart.

Pain, why did there have to be pain? It started so fine, like a sting working its way through his insides, but swiftly grew to something more, something horrifyingly worse.

His hands gripped the seat ahead of him, wrists tangled in chains, and shook slightly. Holding it in, trying to bottle it, control it as best he could, Stiles clenched his jaw and felt his eyes water, but he refused to cry out, not yet. His entire body felt like it was being run over by a ten ton truck, crushed under the weight of the rolling tires.

He did everything to block it all out, to keep from going insane with the agony of it, but would not close his eyes. If he closed his eyes it would only intensify everything, he had to focus on something. Like he'd heard women do during birth, he needed a focal point, something to lose his thoughts to, to distract from the pain.

Surveying the car, his eyes fell on Scott, and instantly darted away. There he stood, his friend who had gained so much control, learned to have power over his wolf, and he was doubled over, gripping himself. The image churned Stiles' stomach, exacerbating his own pain. If Scott couldn't keep it together, how was he supposed to?

That was the sorry reality of it though; as the sounds of agony filled the air. There was no avoiding the pain, no preventing himself from turning. Though he held on with all his might, he could only fight it for so long.

Soon enough, the car was filled with the growls and snarls of the werewolves surrounding him. Though he knew he was one of them now, he was terrified, afraid any one of them would break free and attack him. That gripping fear did little to aid in his maintaining control.

His legs jerked and tugged at the pole they were chained to, nearly yanking it out of its rivets. Looking back to his hands, still gripping the seat, he watched them transform, leaving him to whimper.

Why was he being such a coward? Why couldn't he fight this?

Seeing the boy and his struggle, Derek moved quickly to crouch in front of him, taking a strong hold of his bowed head, and forced him to look into his eyes. "Stiles! Stiles, look at me! Stop fighting! You're only going to hurt yourself. Let it come. I know you didn't want this, I know it hurts, but you have to just push through it.

"Let it happen. I promise it'll all be alright from there. _You just have to trust me_." He saw the pain in the boy's eyes as he reluctantly clung to his humanity, trying so desperately to fight his transformation. The fear hung in the tears streaming from his eyes, which broke Derek's heart.

He had always seen the bite as a gift, believed so strongly in it, and yet now -seeing how much Stiles was suffering- was the first time it dawned on him what a curse it could be. There was no honor to be had in this, he hadn't chosen it, and though he knew more than Scott had when he'd been bitten, he was even less prepared.

Trying all he could to alleviate some of his pain, Derek found it impossible. He listened to Stiles scream, heard it turn into a roar, and realized he was only putting him into more agony. Tearing his hands from the boy, he stumbled back, sitting there in horror as he watched -helpless yet again- as Stiles began to turn.

A sudden crash stole his attention for a brief second, distracting him. He turned to ward Jackson, who had broken from his chains, and saw a blur rush past him, leaping over him to contain the unruly wolf.

Isaac, having found his anchor a few moons past, was able to detain Jackson, thrusting him through the car into the open to fight with him there. Their snarls reverberated off the walls of the deserted station, leaving Derek to place his attention back onto Stiles.

As his head turned to face him, he found that he had broken from his chains, his face but an inch from his own. Stiles growled and snapped his jaws at the wolf before him, nearly biting off his face, had Derek not scrambled to his feet in time. He stood there in awe, no longer able to recognize the boy he had known.

Still chained at his waist and feet, Stiles flailed around, reaching out toward Derek and Scott, who stood side by side, brokenhearted by what they saw. Neither of them would have wished this upon the boy, not ever.

Any word he'd uttered of it before, had simply been sarcastic, an empty threat, for he'd always known the boy's heart on the matter. He'd respected it, honored it, and never once questioned it. But the choice had been stolen from him, and there was nothing any of them could do now but watch.

"Do something!" Scott cried, as confused and upset as Derek, if not more. His best friend was in a state he'd never imagined seeing him, it was like he wasn't there.

Derek frantically thought, trying to find some answer to this, a way to bring Stiles back. He listened to the boy growl, his arms reaching out toward them, almost pleading, then began snarling and roaring louder than ever.

It made them both jump, both too hesitant to go near him for fear of hurting him, forgetting he was no longer the fragile boy they once knew. He was a beast like them now, he could take whatever they gave him, though neither dared.

Finally the only option spilled from Derek's lips, one he'd played over and over again in his mind. "Be his anchor," he insisted to Scott, hoping their bong was great enough to pull him out from this. He gave the other wolf a slight shove, urging him with a quirk of his brow to go ahead.

Hesitantly, Scott approached the thrashing werewolf, lowing himself down to meet his eyes. "Stiles?" it was as if the boy didn't exist anymore, rather than merely hidden deep within the wolf before him. "Stiles, it's Scott. Remember? We've known each other since we were kids. You taught me my times tables and I helped teach you how to ride a bike."

Dejected, as Stiles continued to squirm, Scott glanced back at Derek, eyes filled with despair. He shook his head and felt so overwhelmed, "I can't-" and his voice cracked with shame.

It was so much to ask of the boy, to find him an anchor so soon, when he hadn't even been a wolf for a day before the full moon. He'd struggled so much just to remain human, as vain an effort as it was; to ask him to find an anchor in this state was asking entirely too much.

They had to try though, and Derek was determined. Finding his frustration rising, he pushed past Scott and took a knee in front of Stiles. Gabbing his hands as they swung at him, Derek clenched the boy's wrists so tightly the bones in them began to snap and break.

Stiles howled, shaking Scott to the core. "STOP IT! YOU'RE HURTING HIM!"

"I'm not!" Derek shot back, never taking his eyes off Stiles', "I'm helping him!

"Look into my eyes, Stiles. Fight now! You let the wolf out, now put it in its place, be its master!" His eyes glowed red, boring into the boy's soul, searching for a glimpse of him inside.

It took a moment, but the howls dampened into a wounded growl, as his breathing slowed and body relaxed. The longer they looked at one another the more Stiles returned, feeling a part of himself return.

Sitting there, his wrists in pain, face still contorted into the wolf he had become, and eyes brimming with tears, the boy found something inside himself to cling onto. He'd heard Derek's words, listened to them from deep within himself, and chose the one thing he had worth fighting for.

"I think you can let go now." Scott watched them in wonder, curious as to what had brought Stiles back, or if he was back at all.

"Yeah, it's starting to kinda- You're cutting off my circulation!"

He was back, sarcastic and dry as ever. The sound of it was one of the best Derek had ever heard, and took but a second to loosen his grip and drop his hands from Stiles' wrists. His eyes remained glued to the boy's, and found it impossible not to ask. "What was it?"

Taking a moment to look over at Scott as he wrung his wrists and felt them healing slowly (which was just as painful as them breaking in the first place), then returned to Derek, sober as ever. "My dad," he confessed, "I imagined my dad looking through one of his hiding spots."

It wasn't something Derek understood, but Scott knew all too well what his best friend had meant. He'd seen his father drinking, used that need to protect him, to look after him, as a reason to come back and fight the wolf. Knowing the pain the Stilinski family had been through, he knew they only had each other, and how Stiles had taken over for his mother when she'd died.

Letting his eyes drift toward Derek, it was then Scott saw the expression on the wolf's face. Despite his own smile over the victory his friend had won, he hid it quickly, as Derek began to stand. He'd hoped to be the anchor, to mean that to Stiles, and in that moment, Scott knew what Derek's anchor was.

They were the only ones left in the car at that point, just the three of them. Jackson had gotten his aggressions out and Isaac had successfully tamed him, which Erica and Boyd had managed to find their anchors the moment they changed, each other. Peter had begun taking them out of the station, ready to return to the Hale house.

As Derek stepped out of the car, a noise charged for them, tearing through the station and taking out Betas left and right. One of the Alphas, the last remaining one, whom Derek had knocked unconscious with a broken jaw, but not killed, barreled toward the wounded Alpha and attacked. In full wolf form, it easily overpowered Derek, who was distracted from reaching his full strength by the ache in his heart.

Beating Derek's head into the ground with its massive paw, the alpha stalked slowly into the car, its eyes glowing and fangs bared, as if it were smiling. Not even taking a single glance at Scott, it looked right to Stiles, who sat petrified at the sight of the giant beast.

They were all back to normal, no longer effected by the moon, but it only took an instant and Scott had let his beast free. "You get the hell away from him! You hear me?"

Opening its jaws with a tremendous roar, the alpha took no heed in the baby wolf's threat, clamping down on his arm in response. Jerking the wolf off his feet, it threw him to the back of the car, returning its sights to Stiles.

"Look, I don't want any trouble, okay?" He pleased, his eyes fixated on his best fiend's limp form, until the alpha snarled and demanded he look at it. The boy trembled, raising his hands in surrender as they shook, and felt a tear fall, worried Scott had been hurt.

"I don't want trouble either," the alpha cooed as it shifted from a wolf to a clad woman standing before the awkwardly virginal boy.

Stiles hesitantly lowered his eyes, awkwardly caught on her nipples, but did his best to quickly avoid looking at her at all. "I'm... _so_ sorry!" he stammered, "I- God! You're really naked! W-what do you want?"

"Simple," she replied with a smirk, "come with me right now or I kill all of your friends."

It was technically eight against one, but with Scott and Derek out of commission, and the others so worn from the full moon, Stiles was beginning to have some serious doubts that she couldn't pull it off. "FINE! Fine." He began to rise from his seat, only to be forced back down, caught by his shackles and left immobile.

Fumbling with his chains a moment, unable to loosen them, the alpha grabbed hold of them and broke them with ease. "Thanks..."

With no patience for formalities, Stiles followed the nude goddess of death slowly from the car. They passed Derek, who struggled to pick himself up off the ground. He looked to the pair as they neared the door -Peter protecting the other Betas in place of the one that rightfully belonged to the woman- and called out to them.

"STILES! STOP!"

The boy turned faster than he could blink, looking at the wolf, so broken and defeated before him, and stopped. "One thing before we leave." Addressing the alpha as his courage finally took hold, true and steady as ever.

Tempered, the woman glared at him.

With a smirk he continued, remaining composed and collected. "Which one of you was my true Alpha?"

"We each gave you the bite," her tone threatening and on the brink, "And as the only surviving member of the pack, _I_ am your true Alpha." No patience remained for games; she took hold of his arm and gave him a sharp tug to follow her.

But Stiles protested, clasping his hand over hers as he stood his ground. "I don't think so, see. Because... DEREK IS MY TRUE ALPHA!"

Hearing that, Derek sprang to his feet, taking his full wolf form, and lunged at the woman. Stiles pealed her fingers from his arm, and let himself fall back as the two alphas collided.

Sending the betas in, Peter attacked along with them, defending their Alpha, joining his fight. Alone they were each too weak to fight anymore, but together, as a pack, they were stronger than any opponent.

Scott had managed to bring himself to, leaving the car on unsteady legs, only to see the fight ensue. Stumbling toward his friend, he slid into Stiles, pulling him along the ground toward safety, as the pack leaped and tore around, ravaging the alpha, ripping her to shreds.

As the smoke cleared, each Beta backing away slowly from the carnage, every one of them covered in blood, Derek stood between them all, more powerful than he had ever been. His body seemed to move in the most unnatural but fluid of ways, driven by the strength of his pack.

His eyes did not glow with power, nor did his expression hold any hint of ego. Instead, he looked steadily unto Stiles, his emotions exuding from him. Each of them could feel it come off him like a pulse, pure and raw, including the boy laying on the floor in his friend's arms.

He returned Derek's gaze with amazement, feeling the yearning, the call from his Alpha deep within him. At first he was unsure, jerking himself around to beg guidance form Scott. But he merely smirked, nodding him back toward Derek.

Reluctantly he turned, looking into the wolf's eyes, unsure of what to do. Feeling his doubt, Derek stepped toward him, letting out his hand for the boy to take. As he offered this rather large gesture, he smiled, letting it spread slow but steadily across his lips.

Taking his hand, the trepidation melting away, Stiles stood, looking into Derek's eyes, letting their gazes lock and remain there for what felt like forever. Tempted to mention the man's nudity or that everyone was watching, for once, he remained silent.

"You meant what you said to her."

It took Stiles by surprise that those were the words he'd chosen, but he nodded, giving him a coaxing glare. "Well... yeah! We get to choose, right? Scott chose, everyone chose to follow you, even... Peter," and he held out an unsteady hand toward the oddly composed man.

Doing something none of them could recall ever hearing, Derek chuckled, smiling even wider at Stiles' deflection. "That's not what I meant."

"It's not?" Again, Stiles looked back at Scott for advice, only to get the same response. With a sigh he turned back to Derek, shaking his head urgently, begging for him to stop being so cryptic and just say what he was hinting at.

"You felt it. You wanted me to be your alpha, without a doubt or hesitation. You chose me."

"Yeah well don't read too deeply into it."

The wolf's smile faltered slightly, trying not to let the boy's rapier wit cut too deep.

Seeing the effect his rash retort had on the man, he quickly rebounded, his expression exceedingly apologetic. "I didn't-"

"It's alright," Derek replied softly, his smile returning, "Just know..."

With all the pack standing around, looking on as he nearly forgot anyone else was even there, Derek caught himself, knowing now was definitely not the time to say too much. This rang especially true for the state Stiles was in; this was a conversation better continued later on, when they'd had more time. There were so many things the boy had yet to discover and decide for himself.

After the honor Stiles had bestowed upon him, Derek decided he owed him this much, a chance to find what was truly in his heart, under no influence or duress. And so he refrained, for the time being, and kept his words simple. "Thank you," a genuine and heartfelt statement he rarely conveyed to anyone, enough to let the boy know how grateful he was that he'd always cared too much about those that weren't always deserving.

A day in the life of Stiles Stilinski used to be a boring one. He was an unpopular high school student, last pick of the team, a perpetual bench warmer. But in the past year he'd gotten to play, won the big game for his team, and had an entire pack of werewolves he could now call his friends. When did everything turn around? Why was luck suddenly smiling down on him?

Nothing came without a cost though, and he'd learned that fact the hard way. He supposed there were worse things than being nearly mauled to death by a pack of ravage alphas, but he couldn't think of any. Now here he was, a werewolf like the rest of his friends (save for Lydia and Alison). A lot of good being the helpful human got him if it wound him up like this.

It wasn't the end of the world, but it sure felt like it. How to explain this to his father? _"Hey dad, just thought I'd let you know every full moon I might just try and kill ya!"_? Yeah, right.

Then there was that ever annoying reminder that something had happened between he and Derek, something he couldn't figure out, less ignore. There was no talking to the man, least of all trying to sort things out with him. So what was he supposed to do? Stiles didn't know what he wanted, and no amount of talking was going to help him figure it out, not this time.

It just had to be sexual frustration masking as tension, that was all. The only thing that made sense to him about the whole thing was... well none of it made sense. Alright, so maybe he had felt better kissing Derek when he had pretty much come back from the dead. What was he supposed to do, push him away? Tell him, 'Hey thanks for coming back to life, but no tongue please'?

The fact was it had felt good, so had their first one, as awkward and unprepared as either of them had been for it. He had liked feeling Derek's arms around him after the hell he'd gone through worrying about him. But where did that leave him now?

Stiles sat looking out at the lacrosse field, watching the track team sprint along the edge of the tree line. He focused his eyes on each of them, able to see further now, single each one out, their faces clear, even at this distance. One after another he looked, and not a single one of them appeared attractive to him.

"Oh my god!" Nearly jolting out of his seat on the top bleacher, Stiles stared off into the distance at a haunting face. Angered, he snatched up his backpack, walking down a few rows before jumping from the bleachers, and headed back toward the school.

Though his anger fought hard against it, something else left him looking back over his shoulder, seeing Derek still standing there, watching him. He looked long enough to turn back around, stopping in place, considering going to his Alpha. But the rest of the track team passed in front of him, and once they cleared, he was gone, like a ghost vanishing into the trees.

"_Hate_ it when he does that!"

Avoiding everyone for the remainder of the day, Stiles did his best to pretend everything was normal, that nothing out of the ordinary had happened to him, which he found more difficult than he'd hoped. Nothing had been normal for years, not since Scott had been bitten; well now he shared that curse with him too. And yes, he considered it a curse, especially with the ever increasing desire to go to the Hale house, which he knew must be coming from Derek.

He was calling him, harassing him even without being there, and it was pissing him off. The last thing Stiles wanted was to worry about anything but homework. He wanted to still be a kid, he had things he needed to do, a future to plan for, even if it wasn't a viable option anymore.

There was no way he could go off to collage alone, not now, probably not ever. At least it would save his father the money and himself the mounting debt. But he would have liked to have had that option to turn down on his own, rather than taken away from him in a heartbeat.

The alphas were gone, their pack all killed and taken care of, but it felt like some other monster or enemy was right around the corner, ready to stir things up all over again. He wasn't going to get a moment to breathe with this one, even if nothing happened until the next full moon, but that wasn't even long enough to take all this in. Time wasn't on his side, nothing was, it honestly felt like he was alone in the world with this one, even though he wasn't.

Opting to walk, rather than take the bus, Stiles was thankful for the time alone with his thoughts. Looking over his shoulder every now and then, just to make sure he wasn't going to be stopped by anyone he knew, he let his head hang as he shuffled along. Losing himself in his thoughts, that's what he wanted to do, just let them run wild while he walked the long way home.

Lose himself he did, playing over each kiss, each moment he felt Derek's eyes on him, and what he'd said the night of the full moon. '_Thank you_', why did it feel like that wasn't what he'd wanted to say? God, then there was that image of him standing naked before him; more than Stiles had ever wanted to see.

Derek naked, no pants, no nothing, just everything hanging out, and all he said was thanks. That image was going to remain in his head forever, popping up at random, plaguing him. Stuff like that could not be unseen. Seriously though, the guy was huge, he'd hate to imagine it... Why was he even imagining it? What the hell was he thinking?

Shaking the thought from his head, Stiles finally focused on the world around him, only to stop dead in his tracks. Quickly turning to look behind him, then back around at the building before him, he mouthed a profanity to himself in disbelief. Straight ahead was the burnt remains of the Hale house, a far cry from his intended destination.

Giving a deep sigh, he realized how he'd wound up here, annoyed beyond words. Heading back the way he'd wanted, he began to walked away, to trek through the woods, back toward his house. But something stopped him, something strong.

It was sad, this strange longing that felt all too familiar. Much like the way he'd felt for Lydia all those countless years, he understood it, knew what it meant, only it wasn't coming from himself. Turning slowly back around, despite his better judgment or desire to leave, he looked back toward the house, seeing a figure standing on the porch, watching him.

Derek; who else would it be? He wanted to continue being annoyed, but that sensation confused him, had him questioning so many of his former misgivings, that it distracted his disdain. Standing there, watching him look out in that creepy sort of way he always did, Stiles knew he couldn't leave, as much as that pissed him off.

With a huff, he decided to bite the bullet, take a chance to at least tell him off, and maybe even get him to leave him alone. "Don't get any funny ideas!" he called as he approached, well aware he could whisper and the man would hear him, "This doesn't mean you win, doesn't mean anything other than you're one creepy mother-"

Speech temporarily thwarted as he stumbled, Stiles recovered quickly, as if nothing had happened, and continued to yell. "And I want you to leave me alone." He stood there glaring at the wolf, standing his ground, as shaky as it may be, and well aware that even though he was a werewolf, he was still scrawny and nothing more than a Beta.

Doing nothing but stand there, a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, Derek merely nodded at the boy. "Fair enough." He looked out at the trees a moment, away from Stiles, and let his breath escape him in a thick cloud. Maybe it was time, there really wasn't any better opportunity than this.

The house was empty, all the kids still at school, Peter was off running an errand; they would be completely alone. It was time they talked about things, or at least tried to, at very least, Derek owed him that. Giving a nod toward the door, he offered the boy to follow him as he stepped inside.

All but comfortable, the setting allowed them a chance to talk someplace familiar, a place Stiles could easily leave, if he chose. Derek stood by the sofa, watching the boy enter apprehensively, then stroll in with a sudden burst of confidence.

"Don't do that!" he demanded, waving a dismissive hand at Derek, "No smirking, you're not allowed to smirk."

"Alright." Derek bowed his head, attempting to remove his smirk, which had proven slightly more difficult at what Stiles had said about it. He managed, looking back up at the boy, his expression completely blank.

"Well now you look like you're going to kill me!"

"It's my face, Stiles! There's not much I can do about it!" Laughable, he found it impossible to please the boy, let alone keep a straight face while trying to. Shaking his head, he urged his guest to continue, despite his expression.

"Well... just stop it."

"Is this really what you wanted to talk about?"

"No!... I just... It's a little _odd_, you know?"

Unable to reply, having no idea what to do or say, Derek merely stood there. He'd made peace with his feelings a while ago, able enough to admit them to himself. The trick now would be admitting them to Stiles, but he'd have to ask the right questions.

"Fine! So I've noticed this... _thing_ going on," and he motioned vigorously between the two of them. "Whatever it is, it's gotta stop. I can't have any more of these creepy wolf vibes."

"Why do you think they're there though?" The question was a rather good one, and posed some thought, which Stiles quickly shook from his head.

"No, that's on you. I have nothing to do with that!"

"Just admit it, Stiles. You find me-"

"What? That I find you attractive- That was a question NOT a statement!"

A scoff escaped the Alpha. "I was going to say that you find me every time you want me least but need me most. In this place or that, in your thoughts..."

"Okay, you creeping in on my thoughts, _not_ cool!"

"Don't worry, I can't- haven't."

Stiles had shot him an accusatory glare, knowing well enough that as much as he could feel what he did from Derek, his Alpha could do the very same thing to him.

"They're there though, don't deny it. I don't have to read your thoughts to know I'm in them."

As imposing as it was to imagine him capable of effecting him the way he described, Stiles couldn't deny entirely that Derek's statement wasn't at least partially true. He looked away a moment otherwise to confess this fact, but had too much pride -surprisingly- to say it out loud. There was no way he'd let him have the satisfaction.

"You play over and over again each kiss, each moment we've shared-"

"A moment?"

"If you want to call it that. But I can't be the only one of us that feels... confused. When you fist kissed me, and then when I kissed you, we were both-"

"Vulnerable."

Like the night he'd kept him afloat, saving his life for hours treading water in the school's pool, Stiles had said the single most loaded word Derek could not find the strength to say. Much like that night, he nodded, only not nearly as surprised he had known what he'd meant.

"That's why I keep thinking it's nothing, just random moments we've done something obnoxious to just..."

"Comfort the other? But why a kiss, Stiles? Why not something else, like a hug or a-"

"Like you'd let anyone _hug_ you."

Too hurt to declare 'touché', Derek merely bowed his head, feeling as if he would get further banging his head against a brick wall. "That's not that point and you know it.

"Why are you fighting this? Like you fought the change, it's a losing battle."

"I don't think so. Denial's a pretty decent coping mechanism. It's strong, sturdy, reliable-"

"Like you. There's never been anyone else I've trusted more than I trust you. No one I've gone to without a second thought or hesitation. Now doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"To me? Not really, no."

That stung, as callas as he could be sometimes, he knew Stiles wasn't cruel, but maybe it was just his patience running thin. Derek could say the same of himself, that the way he'd kept everyone so far from getting in all this time, had created this gap too large to cross between them. It couldn't be all there was though, there had to be some way they could meet in the middle, at least for now.

"I'm not trying to make you do anything you don't-"

"Really? Because showing up at my school, watching me like a creeper, isn't trying to force me to do a damn thing. Yeah right, Derek. Got any more crazy you'd like to try and sell?"

His patience had worn thin, his nerves shot and stomach aching from his reactions, Derek had finally had enough. Throwing in the towel, his white flag waving, he walked past Stiles, disappointed in the boy.

It was apparent something else was there, he could sense it, and it wasn't just because he wanted it. There were legitimate feelings hidden under all that resentment and bad blood, but now wasn't the time to break the boys resolve.

Turning back before leaving, he whispered to the boy, knowing he could hear him now. "I'm not the enemy anymore. Remember that."

The words rang true, puncturing Stiles' resolve. Watching as the wolf left the room, he found a chance to breathe, to sigh dejectedly, disappointed in himself. He'd been mean, not entirely what he'd intended. His whit worked against him, turning a stern conversation into something hurtful.

A reality he had to face was that he didn't hate Derek anymore, as much as he wanted to say he did. There had grown a trust between them, born from an understanding they had mutually shared all along. And yes, he found him attractive, but he wasn't sure he was supposed to. Too many things were left unsaid with Derek, it was difficult to tell.

Maybe it was a wolf thing, that ability to sense things. He'd been born that way, only really ever known that, and probably relied on it more than conventional communication.

_"Come on, Stiles, use those deductive skills of yours!"_ A voice in him told him the answer was staring him in the face. Staring him _right_ in the face. Reluctant at first to admit it, he knew what he had been ignoring for weeks now, trying to deny to himself, though he realized everyone noticed _but_ him. Hell, even Scott knew, and Scott usually missed the punch line.

Did he feel the same way? The answer wasn't as easy to come by, not without clearing his mind of all the other stuff that had been filling it, cutting out the confusion to truly reflect. It wasn't easy, but he did his best to focus and dig deep.

Though his actions had always lead him to believe Derek was this terrible person, he had always understood somewhere in his subconscious why he was the way he was. He never made an excuse for it though, never let that justify his bad behavior. But he'd changed, slowly (very slowly), but enough that Stiles had noticed and could not deny it.

His actions did speak louder than words, like how he'd tried to save Stiles on countless occasions, from either Isaac, Peter, or Jackson. And at the full moon, he'd done what Scott couldn't, he broke though a wall to make him focus on what he needed to, helped him through the greatest pain he'd ever known. Derek was a kind of hero in his own right, reluctant as he may be, but he always saved... Stiles, he only ever helped save him.

Whenever he'd helped anyone else, listening to Scott when he insisted on not killing someone, he'd done it reluctantly. With him it was different, it was natural, his first thought.

This alone sobered the boy, forcing him to take a shaky seat on the couch. His eyes looked out into space, playing over all the times they'd been thrust together, working side by side, how they'd taken each others corners so naturally. He cared for the wolf in the other room, had truly meant it when he declared him as his Alpha, and he knew it.

Looking back at how it had moved Derek to have had that unwavering and stern devotion, he had been so rude when all he'd wanted to do was thank him. And why, because he couldn't hold his tongue or suffer his pride? Yet he fought to protect him even then, when all Stiles could do was deny it, he'd chosen Derek for a reason.

Getting up slowly, letting his feet guide him, he wandered into the man's room, finding the door open, as if he were waiting for him. He looked at the mound laying in the bed, hiding within the soiled covers, watching it rise and fall. And there, in the darkness of the freezing room, he felt something warm him, something deep and steadily growing.

Tentatively he took a step forward, then another, until he was to the bed, pealing back the covers before he knew what he was doing. Rather than say anything, Stiles merely began lowering himself into the bed beside the wolf, only to have him turn slightly to face him.

"What are you doing?" Derek looked almost frightened by the boy's advance, but still managed to roll himself over despite his expression.

Stiles laid himself under the covers, nervous and unsure, but brave all the same. He let their eyes meet, did all he could not to let them falter, and found it there in his gaze, the answer he had been looking for.

"I'm scared," he confessed, meaning a plethora of things, but trusted the wolf to know what particular one he implied.

Saying nothing, Derek draped his arm over the boy, pulling him into his chest. He rested his chin atop the boy's head, guarding him from the evils that he could otherwise not keep away. He did this while trembling, his body wanting so much more than he would allow it to take, and did so for Stiles' benefit, so not to scare him away again.

He wasn't scared though, not of this. Something about being in Derek's arms allowed him a comfort he didn't think he could have, a relief from the mounting anxieties pressing against his own chest. Letting himself rest into the wolf's embrace, Stiles took in a deep breath of his scent, which engulfed his senses so much more now that he was a werewolf.

It was there he found it, it was there he accepted it, and it was there he found the ability to say it, both to Derek and to himself. "I don't hate you..." he whispered, hoping the words he chose were enough for now. There was so much more for them to explore, so many things they had to discover with each other to say much more than that. He only hoped it was enough.

"I know," the wolf replied simply, resting with the boy comfortably in his arms. They laid there for hours, until the pack returned, but by that point Stiles had fallen asleep. Too frightened to wake him, Derek remained still, choosing this moment over any responsibility; he had earned that much. Instead, he left a soft kiss upon the boy's temple, replacing his head upon his pillow, and watched him sleep.

He looked so peaceful, something _he_ had earned as well. And in that moment, Derek found his truth, able to find the words to the feeling that had been plaguing him for months. Whispering softly, too low for anyone else to hear, he told the sleeping boy the one things he had been holding onto. Softly and with unwavering conviction, he uttered the three words that had once pained him to even imagine; "I love you." and allowed himself to drift off to sleep as well.

The dream woke him, shaking and confused. It took Stiles a moment to remember where he was, how he'd gotten there, and that he was safe. Still plagued by the dream he'd had, he sat up slowly, as if his body had gone through the wringer, careful not to move too fast or too suddenly.

A strange sensation filled him, making it difficult to discern reality from his imagination at first, a worry he couldn't shake. What he could recall had been rather traumatic, much like the time at Lydia's party, and left him just as downtrodden. Feelings like that were always so difficult to shake.

As impossible as it felt, he knew he had to let go of the dream, ignore it as best he could. He didn't want to think about it ever again, though he knew remanences of it would linger throughout the day. It was a nightmare he wanted to put behind him, like so many other things he wished he could forget. The easiest way to do so would be to get up and out of Derek's bed, which was strange enough a place to be as it was.

Clothing intact, he looked himself over, and save for a few runs in his arm from having slept on it, there was nothing wrong with him. Part of him worried he'd done something he couldn't remember, but the fact his jeans were still buttoned assured him he was just being paranoid.

He was being ridiculous; Derek might be a creeper like his uncle sometimes, but he wasn't a rapist. God, what was he even thinking? All of this had him so entirely out of his element, still working through a few levels of confusion and slight denial. But even he could admit that the wolf didn't deserve the level of suspicion he had just given him, even if he wasn't there to receive it.

Stepping slowly through the gutted house, Stiles looked for Derek, or anyone for that matter. The house sounded quiet, despite the dripping in the basement he could hear so distinctly, and the way the trees groaned in the wind outside.

He'd never get used to that, being able to hear everything amplified, all the preternatural senses he'd developed, let alone the powers he had yet to explore. It was even more amazing now, knowing what it was like having the bite, to see how Scott had dealt with everything. Despite being there the whole way, Stiles really had no idea until now.

His grasp on it was much firmer than it had been before, which didn't help outside of appreciating his friend. This was something he hadn't ever wanted, even if he'd thought about it for a fraction of a second here and there, he'd always known it would be a curse. So much for choices though.

All he could do was live with what he had now. Fearing the ramifications and dread he had begun bottling up inside, a part of him still wanted to think it was all just a dream. The trouble with dreams was some were impossible to wake from, especially nightmares. They stuck with you, like this one was lingering within him as he walked through the Hale house, looking for any sign of life.

Coming up on the front door, Stiles stepped outside, thankful for the breeze that blew by. The air was refreshing, cold and sharp in his lungs, helping to reassure him he was awake and alive. Things could always be worse, he could be dead, so at least he had that to be grateful for.

A number of guilt-ridden thoughts followed, forcing him to look away from the quiet forest, as if unable to face himself. There were too many things he had yet to figure out, and part of that was a lingering resentment for what he now was. It would be a while before he'd ever feel normal being a werewolf, and part of him didn't think it would ever be possible.

Stiles had turned away from the trees and toward someone he hadn't realized had been sitting there, watching him. Giving a slight start at the sight of Derek sitting there, he sighed, calming himself, and almost wished it had been someone else, anyone else.

"Morning," the wolf grumbled, tugging sharply at the laces of his boot. He sat there dressing himself, still wet from the shower he'd obviously just gotten out of.

It was impossible to think he could avoid the wolf forever, and the boy knew he had to stop running or else he'd be running forever. Running just seemed easier, safer even, but that wasn't really an option. He had to face this, whatever it was, and learn to live with it.

"Hey," he replied almost coldly. Aware of his tone, Stiles dropped his head a moment, wishing it was easier to communicate with Derek than what they were used to. They'd always been at such odds with each other that being civil was rather foreign. He had to try though, he knew he didn't want to keep the wolf at such a distance anymore, not when he was his Alpha.

"Sleep well?" Derek glance up from his laces to look the boy in his eyes, bearing into his soul.

Throwing his hand to his hair and holding it at the back of his head, as if to support it, Stiles nodded. He was uncharacteristically speechless, unsure what to say. They'd spent the night together, laying asleep in each others arms, which left so many questions.

"I heard you when I was in the shower. You okay? I think you were having a nightmare."

"Yeah, I was... Nothing bad though, just some stupid thing-" But he didn't allow himself to finish, couldn't bring himself to relive the dream just yet. Unsure if Derek was the one he wanted to share it with, or if he wanted to share it at all, Stiles remained quiet, leaving it for the wolf to ask if he wanted, which he knew he wouldn't.

"Yeah." Derek knew all too well about nightmares, how they could shake you from your sleep, sweating and confused. After his family had been killed, all he could dream of for years was of fire and screams, seeing them all burn to death night after night, unable to stop the images from coming.

But Stiles was strong, he knew how to hold things together. Derek still couldn't help but wish the boy didn't keep things like that to himself though, he was too kindhearted to suffer so. He cared too much, always had, and took everyone's problems on as his own; part of him felt that the boy should be able to let his own weight off on someone else.

They were both too alike though, and Derek knew as well as Scott likely would, that Stiles cared too much to place his weight on anyone else. That didn't mean he couldn't hope that the boy wouldn't one day trust him to bear even a little of that weight, carry him like he carried so many others he cared about.

"Have you eaten?"

"No, just woke up."

The two looked at each other a moment longer, in silence. There were so many unspoken questions and desires between them, Derek barely knew where to begin, other than breakfast.

"Come on then, I'll make you something." He lead the way in, standing in the ruins of his family's kitchen. There wasn't much he kept, or could, but hopefully it would be enough.

Setting out a bowl for the boy, Derek searched through the cupboards to find the box of cereal he knew Boyd had stashed away a few days prior. His Betas had been slowly moving themselves into his house, making themselves at home, bit by bit, making it impossible for Derek to rid himself of them. It was endearing, in its own way, while convenient now.

He placed the box in front of Stiles, who had only just sat himself down. Expecting something like eggs or even toast, he shrugged sardonically when presented with Derek's version of 'making something'. It was food, that was all that mattered, but it was still kind of funny how far from a 'romantic' morning after it was.

"Thanks."

Derek turned his back to Stiles, leaning against the counter a moment as he gave himself a nice mental kicking. He couldn't help what he had to work with, let alone the fact he was as much out of his element with things as Stiles was, at least in ways. What ate at him was something slightly different, curious and anxious to know if the boy had heard his confession in his sleep.

Part of him wanted to be able to simply tell the boy how he felt, to let the words out there so he could do with them what he wanted. But it wasn't that simple, he didn't want to pressure or push Stiles, he couldn't rush him, no matter how far behind and confused the boy still was. If he had any chance of getting what he wanted, he would have to be patient, no matter how patient he'd already been.

Thankfully Stiles stole Derek from his thoughts, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them. "It's pretty good," he lied, mouth full with a spoon of stale cereal.

Scoffing at him, Derek looked back at him from over his shoulder, smirking. The effort was kind, but that was Stiles, as awkward as it was, without that it wouldn't be from the heart.

His eye drifted out the broken window a moment before forcing himself to face the boy. They had to talk, Stiles had broken the ice a bit with his obviously false compliment, but now it was on Derek to carry the conversation. As difficult as it was, he sat himself down across from him, and waited for his gaze to meet his.

"Last night-"

"Yeah I don't know why I-"

"Stiles."

"Sorry." It was obvious the subject was an uncomfortable one, but as much as Stiles wanted to avoid having the conversation, he knew Derek wanted to. They both needed to talk about it, how much all depended, but he'd at least try. "You were saying?"

Allowing himself a sigh, Derek attempted to began again. "Last night you mentioned something when you came in. Said you were scared..."

"Yeah..." There was no hiding the guilty look wrought in Stiles' expression, but he tried. Turning his eyes away from the wolf, he thought back on his dream, on everything he'd felt before taking the leap and crawling into bed with the man.

Aware of how uncomfortable the boy had become, Derek let out another, deep sigh, wishing this were easier for both of them. He needed to help though, for all the time Stiles was there for everyone else, he had to at least try.

"Scared of what?" He didn't want to make any assumptions, those were only ever damaging, as both of them were painfully aware.

It was Stiles who sighed this time, allowing his reluctant gaze to rise and return to Derek's. "Everything... I was kind of young still, when my mom died, but I knew what it did to my dad, it still effects him. I'm scared of being a werewolf. I'm scared of dying, of leaving my dad. I'm scared of what's going on with you and me. And I'm scared I don't know what to do anymore.

"I barely had a clue before; I mean, I'm only a kid. This is all kind of out of my realm... But- I don't know." Stiles let his shaking head fall, ashamed he couldn't just say everything that was going on in his head. There weren't words for what he was feeling, at least not ones he knew.

Derek simply nodded, feeling as if he had disappointed the boy, unable to give him any comfort or guidance. He was as lost as he was in all this, unsure of where his feelings came from or why they were so strong. But they were there and they were real, of that he was sure.

"Stiles... I'm figuring this all out on my own too," he assured him, "you don't have to have all the answers."

"It's not that simple..."

Watching him look off, Derek knew he had to give Stiles more, lead him toward whatever it was he was searching for. "Tell me about your dream? You were- You whimpered a lot in your sleep, even before I got up to shower... What happened?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not. You can tell me."

Hesitating for a moment, Stiles let his defiant gaze meet with Derek's, resenting him for forcing him to talk about something he'd much rather just bury. He needed to talk about it though, and Derek wasn't forcing him to do anything, it was just easier to blame him for dragging up the images than simply facing them.

"I had a nightmare, okay? And it sucked. I was... I was here, and you told me I couldn't leave. Werewolves can't be like normal people, they- we aren't human anymore."

Taking a breath, he collected the courage he needed to go on, to relive the dream, as horrible as it had been. "You told me I had to fake my death, make my dead think I was dead so it wouldn't hurt him what I was."

Eyes wide and heart pounding a bit harder than before, Derek looked at the pain in Stiles' eyes. He felt responsible, as if all he'd ever done to this boy was be a monster, to allow his subconscious to portray him doing that to him. It wasn't easy being a wolf among humans, and even though he'd made the suggestion to Scott ages ago, he and Stiles had proven to him that the option wasn't necessary.

"Stiles, I wouldn't-"

"I know," he nodded, bowing his head once more. Though his response had been slightly forced, his nature to assure anyone he didn't think ill of them, he slowly believed it. Months ago he wouldn't have, but now he knew without a doubt that Derek had changed, he wasn't the same wolf he and Scott had met those years back.

"Just seeing what it did to my dad... It was so much worse than when my mom died. I'm all he has left. It's me and him, that's it."

Searching Derek's eyes for his understanding, the man nodded slowly. His expression was so sullen and full of guilt, Stiles felt responsible for putting it there, regretting even more talking about his dream.

"Just forget I said anything. It was just a dream." He stood quickly and walked off toward the door, wanting to get as far away as possible as quickly as he could.

His father would be worried about him, wondering where he'd been all night, even though he was sure Scott had covered for him. The idea of his dad freaking out hurt him, it got him anxious enough to have an attack, which he'd felt on the verge of doing for the past week now.

Between everything with Derek, having worried about Jackson and Lydia, the alphas, then being bitten, it had all piled up on top of his shoulders so high. The weight of it was killing him, giving him nightmares, making it almost impossible to sleep. Maybe talking would help, but with the way Derek had looked at him, Stiles felt like talking was the last thing he ought to do.

There was too much going on between them, making it impossible to make sense of anything. As unsure of everything he was, Stiles knew the last thing he wanted right now was to blame Derek for something he hadn't done, hurt him for something so undeserving. He couldn't help how difficult this was for him, but Derek seemed to understand, which he appreciated. At very least, what he could do was not make the man feel worse.

He was obviously longing, it was evident in his eyes, which only made Stiles feel more guilty. There was nothing he could do about his uncertainty, just as much as Derek couldn't make him do anything he wasn't ready for. But when would he be? When would he just take a plunge and stop worrying about all the tings he had no control over?

Maybe that was his problem, he was trying to hard to control everything, trying to take back what he'd lost. The alphas had forced the bite on him, made him a werewolf against his will, and taken so much from him. None of that was Derek's fault though, he'd done everything he could to help. And yet there he was, suffering for what someone else had done.

Turning back at the door, Stiles looked toward the footsteps he'd heard behind him, finding Derek standing there, watching him. Stiles let his eyes close with a sigh, unsure if he had the strength.

"I know you want to go back to your dad's, but please just hear me out."

He hadn't the strength to argue the point with him, to protest that he had someplace he needed to be. A minute more wouldn't hurt anything, and it would be a long walk back to town anyway.

Seeing the surrender in Stiles' face, Derek braved his approach, choosing his words wisely. "I kissed you. I know you might have initiated that first one, but it was like you said, a fluke. The point is, when I came back and kissed you, I meant it.

"You getting bitten has changed a lot of things-"

"It's changed everything."

"I know. And I'm so sorry, Stiles. There won't ever be a moment that will go by where I don't wish I'd made it to you in time... You should have been able to choose that for yourself. It's not fair they took that from you, and I understand how that scares you. But I didn't bite you, I would have given you a choice, and I would never make you choose anything that wasn't your dad."

Stiles appreciated the honesty in that, wished he could leave it at that and everything feel better. It wasn't that easy, nothing ever was, this least of all.

"I get why you're confused, I do, but don't- Don't pull away just because you're scared. You're a fighter, Stiles, I've seen it with my own eyes, countless times. Whenever something scares you, you have always found something to push you, to make you do what you thought was impossible, and you can't say I'm wrong."

"You're not," Stiles replied solemnly. His eyes, which had fallen to the floor, rose to meet the wolf's, heart racing and hands shaking.

Everything compounded upon each other, making it all so unbearable, all he wanted was a moment to breathe. It was like the air was being sucked from his lungs, all the energy to carry everything was leaving him, to the point he could feel his legs ready to give way beneath him. The pressure was too much to withstand anymore.

Seeing this, the boy's resolve breaking, Derek took a step forward, stealing the distance between them, and stood there, ready to catch him if he fell. He didn't fall, instead, he threw his arms around the wolf, clinging to him. Stiles was honestly terrified of what came next. How was he supposed to deal with all of this alone?

But he wasn't alone, not really, not anymore. As a best friend, Scott had taken on all he could, but there were some things he couldn't do, someone he couldn't be to the boy. And there stood Derek, strong, resilient, prepared to be anything Stiles needed. Maybe that's what this was, what it had always been, the two of them saving each other seemingly without reason.

The reason was growing ever clearer, and though Derek wasn't pushing, Stiles knew they'd both eventually need to say the words to one another. Right now all he needed was to know the man was there, that he'd be his Alpha and support him when the weight got to be too much for him.

"I don't know how to do this," he confessed, the tears in his voice.

Resting his chin on the boy's shoulder, his hand hesitantly caressing the back of his head, Derek sighed. "Neither do I." They didn't have to know everything right away, it would take time to know how to take each punch as they came. All the while he would be there for him, helping him through, doing all he could to support him.

Stiles knew any one of his friends would do the same, but the way Derek held him, the way he'd known him almost right away, the way they understood one another; there was a comfort in that he didn't have with anyone else, not even Scott. It was what he needed, to leave things unsaid but still know what someone at least knew what was going on inside him. He had always been that for Derek, even without meaning to, and now the wolf held him, paying him back in spades.

"Will you be here when I come back?"

Derek pulled away slightly and looked at Stiles, nodding. "If not, you'll know where to find me."

Their eyes met and shared all the things still too lost yet to say. Each wolf could hear the others heart beating, how the pace quickened the moment they beat in unison, how they raced at the sight of one another. It was all they needed to understand, all they needed for now.

Giving a slight nod, Stiles parted their embrace, knowing it was too soon for anything else. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and stepped out the door. Looking back once more as he left the final step of the porch, he saw Derek waiting in the door, ready for him to return when he chose.

It would be that understanding that would see them through, that would help them become whatever they were meant to be, and Stiles felt more comfort in that. A slight glimmer of hope returned to him, after being absent far too long. Maybe this would all work out, maybe everything was actually going to be alright. It wouldn't be easy, but nothing ever was.

Hopefully all the things he worried about now would be nothing in days to come. They always had an enemy to fight against, a problem preventing him from seeing anything else that would otherwise trouble him. Not that he hoped for anything else after the alphas, but something had to happen, something had to give a little.

All he hoped was that his father wasn't a wreck and that he could actually fall asleep in his own bed. Everything else would fall into place, somehow, someway, it always did. At least now he had something more than he had before, he had an Alpha that would protect him, that would be there for him, one he trusted more than he even trusted himself. For the first time in days, Stiles finally felt safe.

It was the first time Stiles could remember it snowing enough that it actually stuck to the ground. There wasn't much of it, and it wasn't anything the kids could play with, but it made everything look so peaceful. Looking outside you'd never know about all the blood that covered the ground in the past year or so. It was like a soft blanket had been placed over everything, tucking the small town of Beacon Hills into a gentle dream.

The noises outside were all hushed, barely any cars could be heard as everyone hid inside from the cold. Not Stiles though, he was outside, breathing in the fresh scent of it, amazed at how different everything smelled. Nothing had smelled the same since he'd been bitten, but this was something else entirely. It was like everything was sleeping, allowing him to breathe almost normally.

There wasn't going to be another day like this, so still and quiet, of that he was sure. The question was what to do with a day like today, when the world seemed to slow down and leave everything behind.

His father had gotten worried the night Stiles hadn't returned home from school, on edge since he'd heard the report he'd been brought to the hospital, only to disappear from it before he could get there. Yeah, he was suspicious, but what decent parent wouldn't be? Scott had thankfully lied and told him he was staying at his house the other night, ignoring any questions about the hospital.

Safe to say, his dad was having a few trust issues with his son as of late. Which left him under a sort of house arrest, standing outside his house wondering if he should dare venture any further. When did he ever follow the rules?

Waiting for his father to step away from the window, Stiles took off for the woods, setting out on a peaceful stroll alone. It didn't matter where he went or when he got there, or even that his feet were kind of cold. A moment alone was so hard to get, especially one as peaceful as this.

Aware he'd wind up at Derek's, that all too familiar pull calling to him, he did his best not to pay attention to it. He wanted a small taste of freedom, something normal out of all the insanity.

Looking back on it, he didn't recognize his own life anymore, it was so different from how he'd once imagined it. He remembered the few plans he'd had going into high school, how he'd hoped to get decent grades, join the lacrosse team, maybe get Lydia to date him, and hopefully lose his virginity before he graduated. Well his grades had barely clung on for dear life, Lydia was in love with Jackson, his virginity was still intact, but at least he'd managed to make something of himself in lacrosse, and even before he'd been bitten.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be, they were all supposed to be normal kids, regular human beings, not a bunch of werewolves. How had everything managed to get so messed up? When had it gone from normal, every day drama, to life threatening enemies and real life or death decisions?

They'd lost sight of what it was just to be a bunch of teenagers, regular kids trying to get through high school and into decent collages. Now there was a pack keeping them together, keeping some of them from moving on from their little town and on to bigger and better things. They couldn't be normal anymore, but it felt like a crime to cheat themselves out of a real future, one that didn't revolve around being werewolves.

As painful as it was to admit, that wasn't an option, not anymore. It wasn't possible for any of them to be normal, especially when each full moon rolled around and turned them into monsters. How were they supposed to live like that?

Of everyone though, he and Scott had been cheated the most, never having asked or chosen to receive the bite, not like Erica, Boyd, or Isaac, or even Jackson for that matter. They had all their options stolen from them, and though Scott seemed to be doing well with his pack of he and Isaac, Stiles had wanted to move on. He wanted to have a future outside of Beacon Hills, he'd wanted to have a life once he'd stopped being a kid. None of that was an option anymore.

So what did he do from here? Did he go to community collage and get whatever degree he could there? Or did he just forget about school entirely and just focus on the pack?

Maybe he could forget everything else for a while and just focus on Derek, figure out what they were, maybe explore a few things together. And as uncomfortable as that thought made him, it comforted him at the same time. The idea that he'd have time now to focus on possibly having a relationship, of having someone love him like he'd always wanted, of his affections being returned, finally; that was something he'd always wanted.

Could it really be that simple? Was he allowed to have something so simple and good? With all the pain and agony he and everyone around him had grown so accustomed to, something like dating had become such a foreign concept. How Lydia and Jackson managed was beyond him.

Dating a guy though, and dating Derek of all people, seemed so strange. Did Derek even date? The idea even sounded strange, like it fit more like a square peg in a round hole, which was a disturbing enough analogy in itself.

Maybe a walk by himself wasn't the best idea, his mind and the way it wandered, its logic was sometimes mortifying. All he could think about were pegs and holes, "Oh my god." Yeah, he never wanted to even think about that word again.

Shaking his head as he walked, trying to rid himself of the images bombarding his thoughts, Stiles continued on his walk blindly, no longer paying attention to the ground ahead of him. Unaware of what lay directly ahead, his toe managed to catch under a root of a large tree as he passed, sending him forward, falling onto his face. Perfect, just what he needed, at least the pain in his nose took away from his thoughts for a minute.

Rolling over onto his back, he laid there in the snow, feeling it melt into his clothing. His nose stung and body was growing cold, but he remained there, looking up at the sky, feeling like he belonged there, defeated.

Maybe he wasn't meant to be anything more than the dorky loser he'd always been, even capable of being a klutz when he had superpowers. Fitting; who wanted to see the underdog actually make it, anyway? Not him, he was happy being at the bottom, it was safer there.

Bringing his hand to his nose, Stiles sighed when he found it had already healed. Even now he couldn't enjoy the sting of a broken nose and a well made point to himself. There was no winning anymore with anything, how disappointing.

Maybe this was a sign; no matter how much he wanted to give up, he couldn't, not anymore. It sucked, it really did, because it left him missing a time when he used to get shoved into lockers and had panic attacks inside tight spaces, when he was a loser. He never thought he'd miss that, could never have imagined missing the way it felt to be a nobody, just so he could feel normal.

No use laying in the snow, getting any colder. Stiles got to his feet, knowing no amount of self-pity would make anything better, no matter how much he wished it could. Things weren't going to go back the way they were, they were only going to keep changing, keep getting worse. But he had something that might get better, something he'd been scared of.

Still frightened of the unknown, a part of him knew he had to try, had to let himself be happy, as foreign a concept as it was now. If he stopped being scared of it, maybe Derek could wind up being some kind of karmic retribution for all the hell he'd been through.

That wasn't fair though, to think of Derek as some payback or something he deserved. Derek had been shit on and hurt just as much as Stiles had, if not more. He'd lost his entire family, had everyone he cared about killed right before his eyes, and dealt with everyone hating him and distrusting him on a regular basis.

Yet there he was, wanting to let Stiles in, a kid that used to hate him, that wanted him dead on more than one occasion. He saw more than the annoying, rambunctious, teenager with the silver tongue and rapier whit. Unsure what exactly else the wolf saw in him, Stiles knew not many other people had ever wanted to give him a chance, let alone one like this.

Turned around and almost lost in the woods, Stiles looked around for any sign of where he'd come from, hoping to find his way to the Hale house. He had to take a chance, had to at least give Derek one, and maybe let himself have something good after all the bad that had befallen him.

Closing his eyes to concentrate on the call he'd been ignoring, he felt his body pulled in one direction, knowing his Alpha was somewhere on the other side of the trees. He followed it, allowing his feet to carry him through the forest toward Derek. With each step his doubt and worry left him, giving him strength and courage to want to try, to keep going.

His lungs had begun to sting with the frigged air, but he would not relent, he pushed on until the house came into view. Wishing Derek was standing outside, waiting for him, he at least knew his Alpha was there. This would be so much more dramatic and a bit easier if he'd been on the porch, but maybe it was better not done like a movie, so cheap, overdone, and predictable.

The house seemed dead, as he peered inside from the safety of the doorway. Was the rest of the pack there or would they be alone? Hoping for the best and least awkward situation, Stiles convinced himself it was just he and Derek.

'_This'll be easy, just go up to him and tell him... Tell him what? No, don't say anything, just kiss him. But that's stupid. God! What am I doing?_'

Stiles wandered through the house in search of the wolf, with no luck in any of the rooms, leaving him one choice, the basement. He hated it down there, lots of bad vibes in there he couldn't shake. But it had to be where Derek was, there was nowhere else he could be, and by this point, all he wanted to do was find him so he'd know he wasn't going crazy.

He'd followed his call, he was sure of it, and it had lead him here, right where he'd said he'd be when the boy returned. So where was he? The basement looked empty, save for the long stretch of hallway leading to the tunnel and the escape hatch at the other end of the property. Yeah, he didn't want to go down that far, it was dark and scary and just no.

Then a concern began to grow in him, what if Derek was hurt, barely able to do more than call Stiles to him. Maybe he'd been drawn to rescue him. What if that new enemy he'd been dreading would rear its ugly head had finally arrived? What if-

"Oh my god!" he shouted at the top of his lungs as the wolf stepped around the corner in front of him. He'd been so worried, playing over all the possibilities in his mind, distracted as he tried to urge himself to continue looking, that he hadn't heard Derek approach.

"You alright? You're soaked. What happened?"

"What? Oh, nothing. I just took a walk- What were you doing down here?"

"Oh... I had something-" Looking back toward the tunnel, Derek stood there, finding it hard to say what he'd been doing.

Stiles saw the expression on his face, he looked pale, almost sick, or maybe worried, like he hadn't slept in days. He was distracted, as on edge as he was, but for a completely different reason.

"Derek, are you alright?"

The wolf turned back around and looked at the boy, eyes wide and brimming with tears. He didn't cry, nothing fell from his eye, but they were definitely there, tears. But why?

"I'm fine," he lied, his voice hollow and numb.

Something had happened, something bad enough to shake the otherwise impenetrable man. It had to be bad if it had effected him this way, Stiles had never seen him look worse.

"Really, Derek, you don't look so good. What's wrong?"

Again the wolf looked back from whence he came, turning quickly to take hold of the boy and force him toward the stairs. "Not here," he insisted urgently, leading him back to the rest of the house.

They emerged from the basement and stood in the foyer, where Styles could finally get a better look at the man. "You look horrible. Why are you- What is that?" He was covered in something, which left his arms, legs, and clothes covered in black. For a moment, all the boy could think of was blood, the kind werewolves bled when infected with wolfsbane, or what people bled when their bodies rejected the bite.

"It's mud," the wolf assured him, and the boy took a deep sigh of relief. "I was just- Why are you here?"

"Oh! Uh... I thought you called me- Or were calling me, whatever you wanna call it, I don't know-"

"I didn't."

Watching as Derek looked around the empty house as if someone were watching, he lead the boy away from the foyer, into the den where he began lighting a fire. Stiles sat himself on the broken couch, watching the flames grow and felt the room become slightly warmer.

Still able to see his breath when he sighed, he worried what could have happened to make Derek so on edge. He was out of it, still squatting down in front of the fire, looking into the flames as if hypnotized. There wasn't a time the boy could recall ever seeing the wolf this way, which scared him.

"Derek... What's going on?"

Saying nothing, the man stood slowly and turned, looking at the boy with streaks of red running down his face. It made him look old, much older than Stiles imagined he was, which frightened him even more. He looked worn, like he'd seen his family die all over again. Then it hit him.

"Where is everyone?"

Silent still, Derek seemed to collapse, sitting there on the floor facing the boy, head hung and body lurched over like he was crying. God, he was actually crying; unbreakable, unmovable Derek, the strongest man Stiles knew, his Alpha was crying.

Quickly moving from the couch to join him on the floor, Stiles knelt before him, standing on his knees, and wondered what he should do. Abandoning thought, he followed his instinct and leaned himself forward, draping himself over the wolf, holding him in his scrawny arms. As strong as he was now, a werewolf able to lift a car and run faster than any human, he was still small as compared to the man he clung onto.

It was awful seeing him like this, unable to help or know what was wrong. The only thing he knew was something had upset the otherwise emotionless wolf, which meant it was something awful.

"Please tell me what happened, Derek, you're scaring me."

Derek wiped away his tears, angered in himself that he'd worried the boy. This was his weight to bear, not Stiles', not right now. He didn't want to ruin everything, didn't want to admit he'd failed. But he'd seen to much to deny anything had happened, otherwise he would have played it off and said they'd merely left, choosing to run away like they'd always planned. He couldn't lie to the boy though, he was far too smart to attempt doing that.

With a heavy sigh he looked at Stiles, his hand clasped over one that clung to his shoulder, and wished more than ever he could keep all the promises he'd ever made. "Boyd and Erica left last night. They said since the alphas were gone, they didn't want to stay anymore."

It was no secret the two had wanted to find another pack, but it upset Stiles to hear that after everything, they had still chosen to abandon their pack. Maybe they had needed to find a chance out there, a future, just like he wished he still had. But they had believed more in this pack than he did yet, or so he thought. Still, it made no sense.

"Why would they leave?"

"They said they'd paid their end of the deal. I have you in my pack now, I didn't need them."

"That's not true. You just don't leave your pack, you don't leave your friends."

"They were scared, Stiles, just like before. Only now they thought I was distracted, I've lost sight of everything. I'm weak-"

"Why would they think that?"

There was nothing he needed to say, for Stiles understood instantly what the wolf meant. _He_ was the distraction, the most unlikely wolf of them all, the puny one.

"But you can't have a pack of just two-"

"There's still Jackson, and Peter said he'd run with us as long as we'd need him."

"That's not the point, Derek. We're all family. You don't just abandon your family."

"Who says? Scott's father did it to him and his mom, and Jackson abandoned us all for months."

"That's not the same..."

"Isn't it? Well it doesn't matter anyway."

His disdain concerned the boy, worrying him even more, knowing something more had to have happened. Where did the dirt come in? Why had Derek looked like he'd seen a ghost? And why was he crying?

"Derek..."

"I found them this morning on my way into town. I saw the snow and knew something was wrong. I was coming to see you, make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine. What do you mean you _found_ them?"

Derek shook his head, reluctant to say, to upset the boy. He'd be more upset if he didn't hear the truth, he knew that, but it hurt to even think about it.

"Derek!"

"I found their bodies! They... Whatever it was tore them apart, worse than Jackson when he was the Kenema, worse than I've seen any hunter do to a werewolf."

The boy knew it was too good to be true; the peaceful snow day, the way things had seemingly calmed down. Beacon Hills couldn't have a moments rest from some terror threatening the lives of everyone in it. Unmoved by the shock of it, he sat there, unsurprised but sad, sorry to know that his two friends were dead.

Derek felt the boy grow cold, his grip loosening, drawing away from him. Anxiously he clasped Stiles' hand in his, holding onto it tightly, and brought it in toward his chest, guarding it.

"I can still protect you," he urged, "I'm still your Alpha, we still have that connection."

"I know." Stiles' voice had grown soft and distant, lost in the thought and sorrow of knowing two people he'd cared about were gone. It wasn't like it had been when he'd lost his mom, but it was pretty close.

They'd both fought so hard to help defend him, to protect him, and he cared about them. Erica most of all, the girl who kept getting all the bad deals out of life, she'd tried so hard to have what she really wanted, only to wind up killed.

"Where are they now?" He almost feared asking.

"I buried them in the tunnel with my family."

Knowing how much family meant to Derek and how he would never take lightly anything to do with them, Stiles understood the importance of the grave he'd chosen for his former Betas. They had been like family to him, even if they had lost faith or the desire to call him their Alpha. He had trusted them and hadn't taken their leaving as a betrayal.

He truly had come a long way from the man he'd once been, learning to let those around him in. And there he was, begging Stiles to come in even further, and all he'd done was push away, too scared to be anything more or let himself get deeper invested. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't going to be that way anymore.

Though it worried him what was out there that could have killed his friends, what new enemy or monster they were going to have to face, they needed something good, something to make the fight worth the battle. Gently taking his hand from Derek's, Stiles moved around in front of him, crouched down on all fours, looking into his eyes. He saw how much the wolf longed for him, how defeated he was, yearning for the confidence and strength to keep going, and knew then how to give it to him.

Slowly leaning himself toward the man, he let his lips press lightly against his. He felt Derek's body relax slightly, his shoulders falling and chest cave with the breath he finally released.

It was like his shaking hands all over again, only this time Stiles meant this, he wanted to kiss Derek, not caring if it would work in settling his nerves or take his pain away. He wanted to feel their lips together, to have something good, to make this more than the confusing mess they'd been living with for weeks now. What he wanted now, more sure than he'd been before, was to try and have something with the man, something he knew Derek wanted too.

The wolf's large hand rose to caress the boy's face, drawing him in closer, holding him there as their kiss deepened. Stiles let his body continue further, crawling into Derek as the man gradually fell back. Laying atop his Alpha, the boy left his hand pressed against his chest, feeling his heart steadily race, beating against his palm as the two continued to kiss.

He hadn't expected it to feel this natural, to feel so content. But as Derek's arms wrapped around him, holding him there, as if it was where he'd always belonged, Stiles wondered why it had taken him so long to accept.

He cared about Derek, despite every ounce of contempt he'd held against him. As misunderstood and misjudged as he was, he'd grown to understand, learned to forgive what seemed so unforgivable before. Trust had grown between them, and a thoughtfulness of the other, a concern. Desire had risen from the ashes of an unlikely friendship, which left them here now, in each others arms.

Derek's fingers passed over Stiles' hair, trying to grip it. The boy smirked, parting their kiss slightly as he took hold of the wolf's hand. Their eyes met and they shared a smile, their fingers intertwining with each others.

Laying his hand back onto the ground, Stiles' clasped tightly in his, Derek felt the courage to keep going grow within him. Be it one wolf or two still in his pack, he had Stiles, he had the boy that cared too much laying there, caring about him, trusting him.

His head rose and lips met with the boy's once more, allowing his kiss to linger, to say all the words neither dared utter just yet. There was no need to let the moment be anything more than what it needed to be, leaving them to merely express all that was understood between the two of them. They both needed something good, something to make the following days easier, something to fight for.

Resting with his head over his Alpha's heart, Stiles felt his worry creeping in. He couldn't just forget what had happened, forget the friends they'd lost. No matter how much better he felt about what was growing between he and Derek, it wouldn't make the monsters go away.

There was another battle brewing, one they'd have to prepare for. They had to be strong, they had to be ready, and they couldn't lose sight of what they would be fighting for. Boyd and Erica had lost sight of the family they chose to walk out on, they had given up hope, much like Stiles almost had. But he'd been reminded of what he should be fighting for, what all of them needed to cling to and ensure they kept.

Derek could tell the air in the room had shifted, disappointed it couldn't stay light and easy longer. Craning his neck to look at the boy laid so perfectly against him, he slid his hand down his arm, trying to comfort him. "It's gonna be alright."

Stiles couldn't help the scoff that escaped him, but found himself holding Derek tighter. "Maybe."

No promise could ensure the outcome, but there was a strange comfort in pretty words. Despite how grave the outcome looked from here, they had each other, they had what remained of their pack, and they had Scott and Isaac; they were far from alone. So long as they all fought for what they cared about most, they'd fight to the bitter end. That was all that mattered really, the things worth fighting for, and now they had each other to fight for.

Why was everyone always attacked in showers? You see it all the time in movies, but it doesn't seem like it would be a realistic option for someone to take when planning on attacking someone. Maybe it was because you were vulnerable in the shower, being naked and all. Either way, it was a horrible thing to happen.

Stiles sat watching Scott while he gave Isaac's wounds one last look over. It was kind of awkward, seeing the boy with his shirt off and instantly thinking of Derek. He was going to have to get used to that, or control it maybe, if he could, he hoped.

Neither of the other two wolves knew anything about recent developments, other than what he'd told them about Erica and Boyd. All they knew was that he and Derek had kissed weeks ago, that he'd been troubled by it, then shit hit the fan with the alphas and everything was pretty much forgotten. Stiles liked it that way, he didn't want a bunch of questions or funny looks, even if those looks were followed by smiles.

It was between he and Derek and that was how it was going to stay, for the time being at least. No one else had to be worried about them or their relationship, or whatever it was. What they all needed to do now was regroup and really come together as a single pack, for strength and their safety.

That was why he was there now, that and Isaac was his friend, as much as it bothered him the boy had seemingly replaced him. None of them deserved to get blindsided and hurt, especially when they were alone, with nothing and no one to help defend them.

"How's that?" Isaac nodded as Scott finished patching the boy's wound, which seemed to be healing much slower than the rest. They were weaker being such a small pack, and Scott wasn't as strong an Alpha as Derek was, with only one Beta following him.

Stiles hated to see them this vulnerable, knowing how much better off they'd be if they'd just join Derek. It wasn't that easy though, both Scott's pride and his skepticism prevented him from following someone else. He was an Omega that had a loyal wolf join him, lucky enough to no longer be alone, that was it. The last thing Scott had ever wanted was a pack, either one he followed or one he lead, but he wasn't about to disappoint Isaac and turn him away.

The two seemed to work well together though. Scott looked after Isaac like a younger brother almost, like he used to look out for Stiles. Yes, that made him jealous, not enough to say anything, but enough he caught himself grinding his teeth on the occasion.

Watching Scott as he packed everything away, leaving Isaac to put his shirt back on, Stiles gave a sigh of relief, and stood to join his friend at the shelf of supplies. He stood with his back to the other wolf, trying to speak quietly despite knowing very well that he could hear him.

"So what was it? Did he get a look at it?"

"You know, you could just ask me," Isaac chimed from across the room. He hated how Stiles treated him sometimes. Other times they were almost friends, which warmed the poor orphan's heart, and then there were moments like this, where he was made to feel like an intruder, unwelcome in Stiles' and Scott's little clique. It was the most lonely feeling, being so alone while with people you considered friends.

Stiles glanced guiltily over to Isaac, his lips pursed impatiently at his impertinence. He watched the boy sink back, finally pulling the shirt over his head, which had been tied around his arms for a moment while they exchanged glances.

"I don't know," Scott replied, agitated by the animosity between his friends, "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Stiles would always be his best friend, no one -not even Isaac- could replace him. But Isaac was his friend too, he was his Beta, Scott was responsible for him, and he cared about him. They had fun, hung out, and did a lot of the same things he and Stiles did, but the connection he shared with Stiles could never be duplicated or substituted.

But the point was, they were both his friends, they both had to work together with things, and they couldn't keep acting like this. Stiles got that, looking from Isaac to Scott and back again, realizing he hadn't really helped his cause.

"Sorry."

Isaac shrugged and held the arm to his wounded shoulder. He got it, it was just as hard as him feeling like he was intruding as it was, for Stiles to see him get closer with Scott. It wasn't about taking anyone's place though, it was just about having family where he had none. It hurt how sometimes it felt like Stiles hated him, but he didn't let it get to him much, he just did his best to be his friend.

"I didn't really see anything," he confessed, bypassing the awkward apology to get straight to the question, "Whatever it was attacked me from behind."

Frustrated, Stiles threw up his hands with a dramatic huff. Turning back to Scott, they exchanged a glance before the wolf left to tend to some of the animals in the clinic. He had to work, it was why he was there, why they were all there, as annoying as it was he couldn't stay in the room with them.

Not that they needed a buffer, but he and Isaac hadn't really had a moment alone to establish anything, or even bother to. It was uncomfortable, like he was Scott's friend, not his.

Awkwardly avoiding eye contact for a moment, Stiles turned away, fiddling with things on the desk. Isaac sat there watching him, as uncomfortable with the other boy being incapable of looking at him, as the other boy was to do so.

"He'll be gone for a bit."

Stiles turned, despite his best efforts, and looked at Isaac sitting there, noticing the gentle expression upon his face. He was like a little kid with those lost puppy-dog eyes, which he found so utterly annoying. "Yeah," he shot back coldly, before sighing at himself, aware he couldn't keep up this attitude if he was going to get anywhere with Scott.

"You know, he misses you."

The words sounded strange to Stiles, as if he hadn't realized anyone should be missing him at all. He was still around, still there for Scott to talk to and hang out with, but that wasn't what Isaac had meant and he knew it.

"I know he was upset when you named Derek as your Alpha, but I get why you did. Scott doesn't even like being an Alpha, I just trust him, I guess. He's been a little lost lately, I can tell he misses having you there to help him, he misses having you around."

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Yeah but it's not the same. You've been-"

"I've been what?"

Hesitant to anger the other wolf, Isaac bowed his head slightly, a bad habit of being subservient to his overbearing father for too long. Though he'd managed to overcome much of the abuse he'd been put through, he was and always would be a shy kid, the one most people overlooked. Scott had helped him through so much, been there to help build Isaac's confidence where he'd had barely any, but Stiles still looked at him like he was that nobody, which seemed to always erase the progress he'd made.

Seeing this in the boy's eyes, Stiles sat himself down, knowing he was far too hard on the kid. They shared a glance that carried an unspoken apology, which left them both smiling, Stiles more at himself but Isaac with hope.

"I know I've been kind of distant," the confession tasted like vinegar on his tongue, "But this hasn't been easy."

"It wasn't easy for him, either. But he had you when he was bitten, I know, he's told me."

His guilt-ridden eyes met with Isaac's, aware he'd denied Scott the chance to repay him for all he'd done for him. In ways it would have been easier to just rely on his best friend, like they'd always done for each other, but it was different, it was harder to expect Scott would be there in his corner. Like Isaac had said, it hurt Scott when he hadn't named him his Alpha, but it wouldn't have worked had he done that, and he knew it.

That was what he felt the worst about, seemingly turning on his friend with no explanation. It didn't mean he loved him any less, they were brothers, nothing could change that. But he'd put his faith and loyalty into someone he'd once hated, done it right in front of his best friend, and hadn't bothered giving him an explanation or even reassuring nod to know he still cared.

"He's really been down about that, huh?"

"You know he has... It's 'cause he cares."

"Yeah." Stiles gave a slight scoff, not at what Isaac had said, but at himself. He'd been selfish, so wrapped up in his own thoughts, dealing with everything on his own, he'd ignored his best friend. The ironic part about it, was it took someone else to point this out to him, someone he'd felt was replacing him.

But here Isaac was, trying to get him and Scott to mend things. He really was a good friend, and Stiles was glad Scott had him to be there, even if it wasn't the same as having his brother around.

"Look, I know you chose Derek for a reason, I'm sure Scott gets it too. But it wouldn't hurt if you explained it to him. Let him know what's been going on. He's been worried about you, it'd make him feel better to know you're okay."

Nodding, unable to do anything but agree, Stiles knew then what he had to do. His eyes drifted up to meet the other boy's, giving him a weak but friendly enough smile.

Isaac was smarter than Stiles had given him credit for. They were much alike in ways, especially in caring about Scott. And though he couldn't be sure, something told him that the kid knew why he was there, the ulterior motives he had for wanting to finally talk to him.

For some reason, he knew the other wolf supported his decision, encouraging his plan without having to say anything about it. That meant something, it meant more than he'd thought it would had he imagined Isaac having his back with this. It still wasn't going to be easy, but maybe this meant that Isaac would do his part in helping encourage Scott to take the offer he planned to suggest.

He'd been tormented for days, trying to decide how to ask him, wondering how he'd react, and questioning how strong their friendship was anymore that it wouldn't tear them apart. Isaac had at least helped to quell some of his fear and apprehension. The hard part was going to be talking to Scott about it, actually getting his reaction, and braving the fallout, if one happened.

Giving the boy a nod, Stiles stood, letting himself into the other room in search of his friend. He hoped all would go well, but there were no guarantees.

Finding him at the cat cages, he stood there awkwardly a moment, unsure how to broach the subject. "So I found a rat in my house the other day," he blurted out, unsure at first where he'd thought he'd go with it, but as Scott looked back at him with that humored look he often got, the point hit him.

"I smelled something when I was sleeping, it woke me up. It was awful, not like that breakfast smell that gets you hungry and out of bed, but that kind of puke right under your nose smell-"

"Stiles!"

"Yeah, that was gross, sorry. But no! It _was_ gross, that's the point! I looked all over my room, looked under my bed and in the hallway. My dad looked at me like I was going insane and I asked him if he smelled anything funny... Then he looked at me like I'd already reached insane and had sent him a postcard.

"So I kept looking. I looked all over my room until I realized it was coming from the vent. I got in there, like I got _in_ there, and still couldn't find anything. The vents in my house all lead to the basement though, right? I took a flashlight, went down into the basement, and there on the floor, dead rat.

"All I remember is standing there, looking at it, and wondering how the hell I'd smelled it from all the way up in my room. My dad came down to ask what I was doing down there and saw it, so I asked if he could smell it, but he couldn't. _You_ know why I could smell it, but I couldn't tell my dad, you know how much that sucks, I know you do. But I couldn't tell him, I couldn't tell my dad what's been going on with me.

"And instead of calling the one person I knew would understand, I just went back up to my room, emptied out about five cans of air freshener, and sat there alone, trying to deal with it. It's not working though, I can't do it alone. But I can't call the one person I know I should be able to, because I didn't name him my Alpha, and I haven't known how to explain that to him."

Scott had turned to listen to his friend's story, the pain evident in his eyes as he imagined all the confusion he knew Stiles was going through. Sighing deeply as the boy finished, he set his work down and gave him a hug. He didn't want his best friend thinking it mattered to him that he'd chosen someone else to be his Alpha, all that mattered is that they still had each other.

It was strange the way just a simple hug got so many things out of the way, it said all the things they didn't know how to, it opened the door that had closed when neither of them had been looking. Stiles hadn't realized just how much he'd missed Scott until he felt his arms around him, but now clung to him for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he sighed.

And Scott understood, "I know."

The two had talked nearly all day, discussing with Isaac what plans they could, not knowing yet what they were up against. It took some time, but Stiles had finally braved the suggestion of Scott joining Derek's pack, as scared as he was his friend wouldn't understand. He did, knowing they had more strength together than apart, and that they had to all trust one another the most now, with their numbers cut with Erica and Boyd's deaths.

They walked home from the clinic, Scott and Isaac going back to his place, where his mom had been taking care of the orphan at request of her son. Stiles stayed for a while, hanging out for a little while, but left shortly after dinner. He wanted to stay longer, but his dad would be waiting for him and after the other day, he figured it was best not to temper him.

Walking home in the dark, the boy kept alert, a little scared to be alone, but managed to get there in one piece. He hated not having his car, but it would still be a week until it was fixed. Thankfully he had his heightened senses to let him know if anything was out there ready to attack him.

Arriving safe and sound, he let himself up to his room, hanging his head into his dad's office before ducking out to head to bed. He'd do his homework tomorrow and worry about everything else after a good night's sleep, he'd earned it.

Refraining from turning on the lights, Stiles stepped into his dark bedroom, throwing his bag from his shoulder and tossing his jacket at the chair by his desk. As the sweater flew across the room, it was then he noticed the figure sitting there, hidden by the shadows cast by the lights outside.

Nearly jumping out of his skin, the boy reached for the light switch, holding himself there against the wall as if he were about to be mauled to death. But a hand rested upon his shoulder, causing him to cry out at first, only after did he realize he hadn't been hurt. Opening his eyes to look, Stiles followed the hand to its owner, instantly relaxing the second he saw who it was.

"Were you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?"

Watching Derek's expression turn form soft to urgent, Stiles looked toward his door, shutting it quickly as he heard his dad call from the other room. "Nope! I'm fine!"

Heart still racing, he threw a pointed hand at the wolf, mushing him out the window from where he'd come. "The hell are you doing here?" he yelled in hushed tones.

"Did you talk to Scott?" the wolf replied in a calm whisper.

"Yes... You could have just called to ask me that!"

Derek's expression fell, his head bowing dejectedly as he got up from the chair and moved toward the window. It took a moment and one of the wolf's feet to make it outside before Stiles realized he hadn't come to talk about Scott. Still so unsure how to treat this, unaware how something like this should go, he stepped forward, stopping the man from leaving.

"He said yes, by the way."

Sat on the windowsill, Derek turned, hand gripping the pane, and looked at the boy with a grateful nod. It was the most he could bring himself to do, feeling unwelcome in Stiles' room, as he'd always been. Though it hurt, he understood things were different now, they were treading on fragile ground, both as a pack and as whatever else it was they were.

But the new wolf didn't want his Alpha to leave; his knee-jerk reaction had been only that, not any intention to have him go. Taking another step toward Derek, Stiles stood in front of the window, his hand hesitantly falling upon his shoulder, and sighed. "I didn't mean to kick you out."

Looking off through the walls to the room Sheriff Stilinski sat looking over case files, Derek knew he couldn't stay. His eyes traveled up to meet with Stiles', an appreciative smile laid softly upon his lips. "It's alright."

The two stood there a moment, lost in each others eyes. It was something neither of them had ever truly shared with another person, but something their hearts had both yearned for in their separate ways for so long. Minutes passed before the vulnerability grew too heavy, pulling Stiles' eyes from Derek's, letting them fall on the man's hand, which had found its way to his waist.

Rather than take the hand from his side, he let it stay, making its home there, comforting him, reassuring him that he was still there. There was a connection he felt with Derek that transcended anything he'd ever imagined with Lydia. He'd appreciated her, wanted to adore her, but had really needed someone to do so for him, to be there for him, maybe even protect him. He had that with Derek, and though it frightened him in ways, he loved the way it made him feel.

There was safety within his arms, but what they shared was far from safe; it was steeped in danger and uncharted territory neither of them knew quite how to navigate. But the hand snaking around his waist told him that it would be alright, that they would find a way through this strange land they'd entered.

Drawing the boy closer, Derek relinquished his guard, and let his brow rest on Stiles' chest. He felt his slender fingers travel through his hair, bushing back his mane, and let a soft purr escape him.

They both knew he couldn't stay, not here, not in his father's house, but the boy couldn't leave either. For now they could have this moment, they could steal a few more minutes before having to part, and wait until another chance allowed them something maybe a little more. It wasn't enough, but it would have to be, at least for now.

Surrendering to the tenderness, Stiles lowered his head to rest atop the wolf's, kissing a soft patch of his hair before letting his cheek nest itself within it. He understood what this meant, what was happening between the both of them, and though he'd been frightened of it before, he knew from this moment on, nothing about what they had would scare him.

Though the words were not yet there, they could feel it. Like a call in the dark, both of them felt the other pulling at them, linking them together tightly. It was a terrifying rush of calm elation, which left them both exposed and unprotected to the other. But that was love, it made you weak and gave you strength all at the same time, it allowed you to be all the things you never imagined you could be with someone who felt the same.

For the first time in weeks, Stiles knew exactly what Derek had been holding onto, what had been locked within his eyes all that while. Moving his lips to coax the wolf meet with his, Stiles kissed his intruder, only to part with a sorry sort of smile.

"I'll have Scott meet you after school tomorrow. Hopefully I can too. I'll try."

Derek nodded slightly, parting from the boy, reluctantly averting his eyes. He didn't want to leave him, didn't want this moment to end, but knew it couldn't last. Moving out the window, he hung there, watching Stiles move over to his bed before dropping himself to the ground below.

With everything in him he'd wanted to jump back in through that window and rush over to the boy, to kiss him once more and watch over him while he slept. There might not be another time for romantic gestures, but now wasn't the time. Despite his urge to want to spend every moment he could with Stiles, he knew it would make his fight harder, his body stronger, and will more determined to win if he left things to their proper pace.

Laying in bed, unable to close his eyes yet, Stiles listened to Derek's footsteps as they walked away. He heard them carry on into the woods, until he was too far away. His scent still lingered in his room, wafting in with the chill breeze, yet he couldn't bring himself from his warm covers to shut the window. Fighting all he could to stay awake, hoping the wolf would return, the boy finally fell sleep, resting for the day ahead and the new battle waiting just past the horizon.

How many mistakes was a person entitled to before it cost them everything, before time ran out and all their options were stripped away? How many times would the same mistake have to be made before that person learned from it? Everyone around him seemed to suffer for his mistakes, and where he'd been able to turn a blind eye and pretend it didn't bother him before, he couldn't hide how much it hurt now to see those around him fall.

Derek stood in a daze, looking on as Jackson and Scott wrested with the monster, still nothing more than a blur amidst the shadows of the overpass. Peter struggled to his feet and looked at their opponent, enraged, before running back toward it with tremendous force.

Where were the others? Slowly entering back onto the scene before him, Derek looked around for any sign of the two, smaller wolves that had been fighting with them. They'd lost enough friends already, and though he'd acted like he didn't care, he couldn't lose any more of them.

Despite his most arduous efforts, they had become his family, each one important to him, each undeniably valuable. Realizing this, as painful as it was to admit, Derek stumbled toward the dark figure of a limp form laying on the ground, terrified of what he'd find.

Kneeling beside the body, its back to him, he placed a shaking hand upon its shoulder, turning it slowly. A sob escaped him as he saw the face, torn and barely recognizable. It wasn't sorrow that forced his tears, but relief, a small glimmer of hope that who he'd feared it had been was still alive.

Isaac, the brave orphan had given his life to fight by his pack's side. He hadn't deserved to die this way, not like this, in the dirt and grime of an overpass. His lifeless body, so mangled and bruised no longer resembled the person he had been, the life he had deserved to still live.

But it wasn't Stiles, there was still no sign of him. As Derek turned back toward the fray, he saw two bodies thrown into the distance, another still latched onto the beast they battled with. Where was the boy? What had happened to him?

The time for questions had long passed, he still had fight, had to win before he could worry about the wounded and dead. Every second that passed, the longer this would go on, the harder it would be to beat this thing.

Lunging toward the figure as Peter tumbled backwards past him, Derek attacked with such ferocity and strength. Snarls echoed and filled the air, bouncing off the stone pillars and empty street. Feeling his uncle come back up from behind him, the Alpha continued to fight, to gnaw and bite and tear at anything and everything he could.

Eventually the pair wore the beast down, getting it on the ground in time for Jackson to run in and help. The three of them battled endlessly until the monster stopped moving entirely, and they were able to rip it limb from limb.

That was all that mattered, destroying the thing that had terrorized their pack, torn it apart, and wreaked havoc on their town. Everyone would be safe now, they could sleep easy knowing it was gone. All was well in Beacon Hills once more, or until another enemy appeared; peace never lasted long, not since Derek had come back into town.

With the smoke clearing, each wolf able to stop and look for those who had fallen, Derek and Jackson set out to find Scott and Stiles, while Peter began cleaning up the mess. The two scrambled to either end of the overpass, searching through the rubble.

It didn't take long for Jackson to find Scott, along with something else. Shouting frantically, he called over Derek, who ran reluctantly from where he'd been searching.

His heart sank the moment he saw what had the young wolf in such an uproar, and felt his head spin. There sat Scott, weeping as he held Stiles' broken body. He wasn't moving and barely breathing, but breathing none the less.

Teetering on his feet, Derek looked from Stiles to Peter, who had begun dragging body parts away toward his truck. "No, that's alright, I can do this myself. No need to help," he called, obviously tempered at everyone's distraction. Throwing a leg into the back, he looked over at the other wolves, wondering what had them all crowded, before walking over to join them.

"He's not healing!" Scott sobbed, frantic and confused.

"Yeah, the wounds seem to take longer the worse they are," Peter huffed as he reached them, his own arm healing slower than he'd like. He'd gotten a nasty gash early on in the fight and it had barely improved since then.

Jackson looked at his own chest, noticing the slash he'd received, and nodded in agreement. "Maybe we should get him to the clinic, or bring him to the hospital."

"How do we explain-"

"Who cares, Derek! He needs help! I don't care what lie you need to think up, we're getting Stiles the hospital!"

Scott's mother could treat him there, she knew what they all were, she would be able to help at least a little bit. Though his fear held him back slightly, Derek nodded in agreement, eager as everyone else was to save the boy. "Let's go then."

He and Jackson helped lift Stiles out of Scott's arms, though the wolf quickly took Derek's place, shoving him out of the way. Watching them carry off his faltering strength, Derek turned toward Isaac, knowing they couldn't leave him, but aware they couldn't take him either.

"Are you coming?" Peter called from the truck. He waited for his nephew to shake his head before taking off.

Stiles was safe with the others, no matter how much he wanted to be there by his side. There was no one left to bury the dead, their ditch digger had no one in the world left to look out for him but his pack, and as Alpha, that responsibility went to Derek.

Cradling the boy's body in his arms, he carried him off toward the graveyard, to the one place he knew the boy belonged. Isaac had become family to the sour wolf, even when he had named Scott his Alpha over him. He was pack and that mattered, but despite the hell Derek had rescued him from, Isaac had always loved his father, believing strongly in the love the man once had, before everything had changed.

He deserved to be buried with him, to be beside his mother and brother, with his family. Going almost to the spot he had first seen the boy, Derek set his body down gently, resting him by his brother's headstone. Digging his claws into the earth, he began tearing up the dirt, cutting into the ground a hole to place Isaac in.

Tears fell silently from his eyes as he dug, his guilt and worry plaguing him. He had failed him, he'd failed his pack, and now they were resorted to practically nothing. Sure that Scott would leave again and likely take Stiles with him (if the boy pulled through), he used the anger that filled him to keep digging.

The idea that Stiles wouldn't heal or would be left crippled or scared in any way tore at his insides. Rage filled him and fueled him, leaving him unaware of the gashes he'd put in the lid to Mister Lahey's coffin. Feeling his claws catch on the wood, he stopped, backing himself away, and looked at the dirt covered box, stunned.

How likely would it be that he'd be looking at Stiles in one just like it soon? Had he made that grave a mistake bringing he and Isaac so that fight? They were both more frail than the other wolves, so unprepared, but both as eager as the rest to defend their town and loved ones; he hadn't been able to refuse their help. They were pack, and as much as Derek hated to admit it, that had meant just as much to them as it did to him.

Shaking himself from his daze, Derek turned and lifted himself from the grave. Taking up Isaac into his arms once more, he lowered himself and the body into the hole he'd dug, and laid him carefully on top of the coffin. It wasn't the burial he deserved, but it was what he could give him; at least this way he'd be with his family.

Taking a moment to look at the boy laying there, he imagined how like Stiles he looked, how easily it could be him laying there instead. Disgusted by the thought, Derek quickly left the grave, pushing the dirt back into the hole, covering the boy without another glance at him. Nothing about this was easy, least of all for him, but his heart was torn in so many places at once, he couldn't think straight.

The grave covered and grass back in place, Derek said one final goodbye, wiping the tears from his eyes and dirt along his cheeks. Nothing could make this alright, nothing could change it either, and the hope in his heart was fleeting for Stiles' recovery.

Wolves healed, it was what they did, and though his own wounds were healing agonizingly slow, he told himself Stiles shouldn't have been in as bad a shape as he was. Maybe it was just guilt, blaming something else rather than himself, though he did plenty of that.

Still he ran, ran as quickly as he could toward the hospital, hoping he wasn't too late. There was still so much he hadn't said to the boy, so many words left unsaid, so many things they had yet to do, so much life yet to live. Isaac had lost the battle but he prayed Stiles hadn't, not yet.

Turning frantically as he entered the emergency room, Derek stood in a fury of confusion and panic. A security officer began walking toward the man, who stood disheveled and caked with dirt, and the wolf moved quickly in the other direction. Finding his way to the desk, he got the attention of the nurse behind it, her back to him as he began rapping on the counter.

"Stilinski!" he demanded, "Which room?"

"406, but you can't go in there, sir!"

The woman shouted after him, calling for security, but Derek saw himself out. There was no way they'd let him near Stiles, not without questioning, which he wasn't about to stand though. He had no idea how much time he had, what chances were slipping past the longer it took him to find the boy, so he had to act fast.

Standing outside the hospital, Derek counted the rooms, looking through each of the windows, trying to pinpoint which one was Stiles'. It took him a moment before he saw the figure of Sheriff Stilinski pass one of the other rooms and then another, before disappearing.

Knowing now the room, the wolf took to scaling the building, hiding under the cloak of night, in every shadow he could. Not losing sight of the window, Derek waited outside it for the sheriff to leave and the light to turn off, before letting himself in quietly.

There was little else that sounded in the still room than the machines monitoring the boy, who laid peacefully asleep in the bed. Standing there, just looking at him, Derek felt all his guilt weigh on him. This was his fault, no matter how he looked at it, it was all he allowed himself to see. He should have stopped both he and Isaac from going with them, he should have stopped them all, and it should have just been he and Peter.

Derek let himself into the bathroom to wash the dirt from his face and hands. The light of the white room made his face look pale and sickly, and he couldn't face himself, averting his eyes from his reflection.

Ashamed at what a failure the night had been, he went through his options silently, deciding what he felt was best for the pack. It would anger them all, he was sure of it, but it was the only choice he felt he had. As Alpha, he needed to keep them safe, which was the one thing he'd failed to do most consistently. The time had come for a change, and though it broke his heart to admit it, it was the only option he could see.

Stepping out, he shut off the light behind him, leaving the door open as he walked across the room to Stiles' bed. The boy had hardly healed, and looked as human as when he'd first met him. To see his wounds like this left Derek ashamed and disappointed in himself.

Such a sorry excuse for an Alpha, he didn't deserve to lead a pack. He'd always thought he knew what he was doing, but maybe he had just been fooling himself.

He placed a hand gently atop Stiles', sitting himself down in the chair beside him. What choice he made wasn't for himself, not this time; it was for Stiles and Isaac, for all the rest he'd disappointed. It was the only way to keep all of them safe, to ensure nothing else happened to them.

Placing his head on the bed by the boy's lap, he sighed, allowing his hand to fall away as he closed his eyes and began to say goodbye. "I wish I could be the Alpha you think I am. But I can't keep lying to myself or any of you. There's just so much I wish I could take back-"

A gentle hand rested itself in his hair, brushing it slowly as he turned to see the boy had awoken. Their eyes met but quickly parted as Derek felt his guilt press against his chest once more.

"You really need to stop doing that," Stiles croaked softly. His voice was hoarse and groggy, but still managed the few words despite how raw his throat felt.

Derek sat himself up abruptly and looked away from the boy, wiping his eyes as casually as he could. "Do what?" he asked quickly, though he knew what Stiles meant.

"Stop blaming yourself, Derek, it wasn't your fault. You did the best any of us could. And hey, I'm still alive, still kicking... if I could feel my legs." Looking at the boy's lap, Derek seemed to shake at the thought he had been paralyzed, which Stiles quickly noticed and shook his head vigorously. "They're asleep! Sorry, didn't mean that! They're fine."

His nerves all but quelled, the wolf merely shook his head, knowing that would only be another thing to push him toward his decision. "That wasn't funny." Though he had battled with Stiles' humor in the past, Derek had grown to appreciate it for a time, now it seemed all the humor had left him once again, leaving him incapable of making anything light of this situation. He'd put the boy here in this bed, and that was the reality of the situation; no amount of sarcasm could make it better.

"Yeah, I said sorry- Derek, what's going on? What happened?" Why did it always seem that no matter how much closer they got, the further the wolf still managed to make himself? It was like pulling teeth trying to get him to tell him anything.

"Nothing. We won. That's it." He leaned onto the bed, resting his clasped hands beside the boy, his head hung despite the victory he claimed.

The mixed signals had Stiles more frustrated than confused; he knew Derek enough by now to know when something had happened or when something was plaguing him. What had him wondering was what it meant, what thoughts were going through his Alpha's head, and why it seemed to make the boy so nervous.

"Look, whatever happened, it's gonna be okay, we'll deal with it," he assured the man, hoping his blind promises would help avert catastrophe.

"It's already done. There's nothing to worry about anymore. Just go back to sleep, you need your rest."

He couldn't say goodbye, he couldn't face the boy and tell him he was leaving. They'd gotten so close to having what they both wanted, so close to something good. But this was just one more thing to prove to Derek he didn't deserve it, that no matter how much he wanted something, it wasn't his to truly have.

His heart racing, Stiles looked at the wolf, feeling his temper rise, his own wolf verging on appearing. "I'm not tired," he lied, "Now tell me what the hell is going on, or so help me-" Gnawing his teeth at the man, he threatened to bite him the best he could, as aware as he was that he was the furthest thing from menacing.

Derek merely sighed, shaking his head slightly as he continued to look away. "I'm tired, Stiles. It's getting too hard to fight anymore-"

"So what? You're thinking of running? What did you say to Scott before? 'If you run you're gonna keep on running forever'? Yeah, Derek, because that's what you should do. Just give up on us, we're just your pack, nothing serious or anything."

"I'm not fit to be Alpha."

"Who says? I'm sorry, but I named you without the slightest hesitation. I picked _you_ over my _best friend_. I thought that meant something."

It wasn't that simple or easy, loyalty didn't guarantee safety, nor did it make him a fit leader.

"You know, I'm really disappointed in you. You do everything in your power to get us all to follow you. You terrorize the shit out of us and stalk us at school. Then you go ahead and run away right when you manage to get me to fall in love with you. Why? What for? Why'd you bother doing any of that, Derek? Because I don't see Peter being half the Alpha you are, even though I'm sure he'd argue he could do better... that creeper."

Keying in on something Stiles had casually thrown into his speech, Derek looked at him, stunned.

The expression caught Stiles off guard, confused and worried he'd said something to anger him. "What? What'd I do?"

"Tell me... Tell me why I shouldn't leave." Sure that no matter what the boy said, he would still head out of town to make them all safe, he needed to hear those words, had to know it was there. Those words would haunt him and comfort him though the long nights alone, so he needed to hear them again, really hear them, to know they were there and that the feeling existed between them.

Stiles hesitated on his words, almost stammering as he tried to recall everything he had just said. "Well there's- The pack, you still have us, and we need you. You're-"

"Not the pack. Tell me why _you_ want me to stay."

Remembering now what he had said, the boy sank back into the bed, sitting there nervously. He hadn't realized he'd said it at first, but he saw it in Derek's eyes. There was no taking it back, even if he wanted to, but he sat still, trying to understand the weight of what he was about to say.

Unsure how true the words were, Stiles swallowed hard, looking away from the wolf, who's eyes had glued themselves to him. "I don't know, Derek."

"Say it."

"I don't want you to leave."

"Why?"

"You're my Alpha-"

"Stiles! Tell me why!"

His eyes closed and heart weighed with the words as they hung themselves within his chest. "Because..."

"Just say it. I need to hear it."

They sat in silence a moment longer before the boy finally shook his head and sighed. "I can't," the words were barely a whisper, but one Derek heard loud and clear.

He couldn't bring himself to let those three words be the last ones he said to the man. As unsure he was of them, how wrong the moment felt, and how scared he was he'd never see his Alpha again, Stiles couldn't manage to say it again, nor with the conviction it deserved.

Opening his eyes to apologize, he found himself alone, the room dark and empty, along with the bathroom, which remained open and void of life. That was it, he'd left, and now all the boy had was a heart full of regret. Somehow it didn't feel real, not at first, but as he laid himself down to sleep, Stiles found it impossible to close his eyes, his gaze fixated on the window the wolf had climbed through.

Days had passed, though he had recovered quickly, his release was postponed to thwart suspicion. On the day of his release, Scott came into the room with his mom, handing Stiles a fresh change of clothes, and his papers.

His dad was at work for the rest of the day, and though he'd insisted on coming to get him, Scott insisted Stiles tell him to stay. They had somewhere they had to go, a loose end that needed to be tied before everything could possibly return to normal. Understanding his friend's request, he complied, as reluctant as he was to do anything other than go home and sleep for days.

Following Scott into the woods, Stiles complained and kept rambling the entire way, knowing exactly where they were going, but unwilling to go without some form of struggle. It was in vain but still managed to get under his friend's skin. They bickered along their trek, but managed a few chuckles as they approached the house.

Hale house had never seemed more unwelcoming than it did now, and that was saying something. It had frightened Stiles on occasion, haunting his dreams even, but now it just pained him to look up at the burnt shell. The sting worked its way through his heart and into his stomach, where it seemed to settle.

Peter sat waiting for the boys, hearing them grow close, their voices echoing through the trees. He stepped out onto the porch and watched as they approached, nodding his head as the two continued shouting.

"It's a good thing we weren't meeting in secret!" he called, getting their attention.

Stiles stood looking at the house, seeing Peter with his hands in his pockets, standing alone. His heart gave a single, hard beat, still wrought with the sting of knowing Derek wasn't there. Though he'd tried to make him stay, convincing his Alpha he was still needed, he had failed.

Or so he thought. As his eyes moved from Peter to the door, he saw a figure move through the shadows of the house. Again his heart gave a hard beat, almost skipping as he saw the figure emerge.

Unaware they were expecting anybody, Derek had watched his uncle walk out to the porch, following him cautiously. He feared the hope lingering inside him, the doubt that had kept him there. Despite the power of his guilt and his desire to leave Beacon Hills, he had remained, doing as his uncle had asked, and stayed for a few more days.

He had denied the reasons to himself long enough, convincing himself he still had things that had to be taken care of before he went, he had really been waiting to see Stiles again. And there he was, the boy who cared too much, his eyes piercing straight through him, as they both stood in silence.

Giving a snide kind of pivot back toward his nephew, Peter gave him an expectant nod, his expression urging him to do or say something. "Oh for Christ's sake!" he groaned, looking back at the two boys standing in the clearing of dead leaves. Watching Stiles with the same look on his face, he waited to see which of them would act first.

Scott stood being Stiles, giving him a supportive smile and nod, admitting this had been his plan all along. They couldn't have their pack break apart now, not when everything seemed to be going back to normal. He had named Derek his Alpha for his friend, and he wasn't about to give up on him now, and neither should Stiles.

"Well this is just turning out to be awkward," Peter huffed, disappointed in them both. Stepping down from the porch, he walked past the boys to escape from the scene into the trees.

Remaining by his friend's side, Scott watched as Derek slowly followed his uncle's leave, taking a step down from the porch. Seeing this, the first sign that he was actually there, that he was waiting, Stiles felt his heart race and followed it, running toward the house.

The two met on the ground, Derek's hands cradling the boy's face tenderly, and Stiles stood there with wonder in his eyes.

"You left." He'd been sure that night he'd been abandoned in his hospital room alone, that it was the end, they'd said their goodbye. But here stood the wolf who had stolen his heart, still there, still leading their pack.

"I stayed."

"Why?"

Silent for a moment, Derek let his eyes fall to Stiles' lips, wishing he could merely kiss him and make everything alright between them. "I needed to hear you say it. Why I shouldn't go." His gaze rose to meet with the boy's, which brimmed with tears of hope and fear.

Searching his eyes for the answer, begging him with his own, Derek prayed he would hear the words he needed to keep him there. His guilt still plagued him, but his heart had him tethered to this place, not allowing him to leave until he'd heard the truth from Stiles' lips.

Heart still pounding through his chest, he looked into Derek's eyes, knowing the words were already there. There was no time left to find them, he couldn't wrestle with it forever, it was either say it now or regret having the chance slip through his fingers for the rest of his life.

Taking a breath, the air catching in his throat, Stiles let out a soft sob, feeling the weight finally leave him as he breathed out the words. "I love you."

For a moment the wolf's head spun, floored by the revelation coursing through him. No matter how much he wanted to protect the boy and everyone else, he couldn't leave them. They were his family, his pack, and the boy who cared too much, the one clutched within his hands, had finally given him his heart.

Humbled, Derek nodded, letting a single tear fall from his own eye as his heart finally melted. "I love you too," the words trailed from his lips in a fine whisper, strengthening the tether that kept him in this place.

His head fell slightly as he felt his body growing weak with vulnerability, but Stiles moved to hold him up, pressing his body against his and wrapping his arms around the sour wolf. Placing his slender hand to the man's jaw, he lifted his chin slightly enough to kiss him, allowing their lips to give strength to what their words had stolen. It was all they'd ever wanted, to be loved, to have someone there that wouldn't leave them, that would stay by them with every ounce of love in their hearts.

It wasn't the end of their story, merely the beginning, but it was where the chapter drew to a close. There was no more wanting, no more pining, only true and honest love to be had. Whatever else might come along to give them new and terrifying trials and tribulations, they would have each other, they would have pack to see them through, and would be the others strength.


End file.
